


A Ghost of Who I Was

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Race Changes, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Blood and Torture, Brotp, Car Accidents, Choking, Cluelessness, Cybertronian, Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Flying, Food Issues, How to be Human, Identity Issues, Injury Recovery, Insults, Interrogation, Joyful, Kidnapping, Mild Spoilers, Multi, Old Friends, Ominous Epilogue, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Betrayal, Reliance, Repairs, Rescue Missions, Science Experiments, Self-Harm, Separation Anxiety, Showers, Silent Treatment, Supportive Optimus, Tragedy, confidence issues, hopelessness, learning new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 35,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an accident turns Ratchet into a human indefinitely, Jack, Miko, and Raf try to help their distraught medic get used to an Earthly life. Ratchet is barely responsive to their attempts and when things take a turn for the worst, the children are forced to seek out the one being in the universe who knows Ratchet best.</p><p>
  <em>"Help me, Optimus..."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> To see the cover of this story, go [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1723568)  
> To see the movie trailer for this story, go [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNRLPWBTwgw)
> 
> And if you comment/critique/give me ideas of where to go with this, I will love you forever! :D

Ratchet came to sense little by little, finding his processor unusually clogged from recharge. Wait...he had shut down suddenly, painfully. Sluggishly Ratchet tried to send the signal to his optics to online, but he wasn’t rewarded with the normal obedience. In fact, he didn’t even feel the command process.

Was he glitching? Sensing he was prostrate, Ratchet tried to online his optics once more and reached minimal success. Why was his vision so blurry and why weren’t his processor commands pinging comfortingly as they always did?

Utterly confused, Ratchet cautiously brought a hand to his chassis. Even his spark didn’t feel right...His spark-pulse was off-center, further off to the left than normal, and it couldn’t even be called a pulse. It was a _beat_ , one which was abruptly quickening as Ratchet grew more and more nervous about it.

He slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, groaning as his helm whooshed and his vision grew spotty—wait, _spotty_ had never happened before...Again Ratchet tried to send a message to his optics, but he still felt nothing.

What was going on? Shaking his helm vigorously back and forth, Ratchet finally got his vision to clear. A gasp of horror caught in his vocalizer when he saw what lay in front of him. Human legs! Ratchet moved instinctively away from them. _Whose—?_

Had those legs just moved? Ratchet was scrambling away now, but the human legs were following his, mimicking their movements—

If the human legs were following his legs, where were his legs for them to follow?! Ratchet gasped again and his irregular spark-pulse-beat went wild when he felt something cold and hollow whoosh down his throat.

 _Autobots don’t breathe—Where are my legs—What’s happened to my spark—Why isn’t my processor sending panic messages—Autobots don’t breathe—What’s this cold in my neck cables?!_ Ratchet clutched at his throat for a single moment, jerking his arm away when he felt tiny, sharp pricks in a curve down one side of his neck.

Fingernails. What were fingernails doing on his hand...? Transfixed in horror, Ratchet turned his arm and saw bronzy skin, _human skin_ , wrapped around it. What was that wetness? _Sweat_? Panting, Ratchet tremblingly lifted his hand back to his neck.

No cables. More skin.

Ratchet’s fingers curled around something thready but thick that lay against his horrifically-skinned neck. He stroked it fearfully, trying to probe it with an EM field he wasn’t projecting.

He had to see himself. Standing on weak human legs, Ratchet staggered at vertigo that assaulted him. What were these metal mountains that surrounded him, towered so far above him?! Craning his head up, Ratchet saw something he recognized in the sky, far above him.

His computer screen...Why was it so far away? Never mind that for now, he needed to find a reflective surface. Ratchet walked, those insane legs juddering beneath him with every step.

There, on that step: the hand mirror Miko had forgotten the day before. Ratchet picked up the pace, keeping his right hand around the threads against his neck and reaching out with his left, his insides lurching sickeningly when he saw it was just as fleshy as the other. Ratchet tried to ex-vent, but what he got was gross heat coming up his throat and battling the cold that reached into his mouth.

Ratchet picked up the mirror and, with a failed effort at steeling himself, looked into the mirror—and screamed.


	2. *Jack*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 2: "Heartache" by Tait.

Jack still hadn’t gotten used to the absence of Arcee in his garage. Sometimes he forgot and tried to call her on his cellphone, only to realize that she was a universe away, on Cybertron. It always left him with a deep sense of heartache which he pushed away with the thought _At least we’ve still got Ratchet_.

But the Autobot medic wasn’t the same as Arcee...

Miko and Raf could often tell what he was thinking and could sympathize, but Jack usually told them not to. Complaining wasn’t going to bring their guardians back and besides, it would get Ratchet cross with them.

Today, Jack mused somberly as he drove into the base in his new car which should transform but didn’t, today he would just confess to Ratchet how he was feeling.

“You’re right,” Miko agreed pensively from the backseat when Jack told her his plan. “He must understand. Y’know, cuz he and Optimus were really tight—all their “old friend” stuff. Ratchet probably misses that too.”

Raf simply sighed.

When Jack parked his car and got out, he felt a sudden wave of uneasiness at the quiet. He couldn’t hear the creak of Bot limbs moving, nor the clicking and chirping of the computer. All was silent and Jack was afraid to break it in case it was intentional.

A piercing scream shattered the air for him. Jack, Miko, and Raf all reacted immediately, bolting toward the computer room, shouting Ratchet’s name and demanding what was wrong.

Jack screeched to a stop at what he saw.

A man was standing in the computer room, holding Miko’s hand mirror up to his face and screaming continuously. He wore a long-sleeved brown turtleneck and a white collared coat over it. Belted tan slacks swished over the man’s bare feet as he stumbled back as though to escape from the mirror even though he was holding it.

“Who are you?!” Miko and Raf hollered in unison.

At the sound of their voices, the man whirled toward them. Jack saw the terror in his face and grabbed Miko before she could attack, knowing that the man wasn’t faking such emotion.

“Wait, Miko!” Jack ordered severely. Gentling his tone, he called to the man, “Hey, you. What are you doing here?”

When the stranger spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper. “...Jack?”

Jack startled. “How do you know my name?”

“I...I’m Ratchet.”

Miko struggled against Jack’s hold on her. “No, you’re not! How dare you say that?!”

“Wait,” Jack said again. “What do you mean?”

“I’m Ratchet,” the man repeated, only a tad stronger than before. “I’ve...been turned into a human.”

Raf gaped at him. “But that’s impossible!” he cried. “You have to be an imposter!”

“But the voice is right,” Jack muttered in bewilderment. “How do you have his voice?”

“It’s _my_ voice,” was the weak reply.

Jack slowly released Miko and walked forward himself, circling the man and looking him up and down. The man’s silvery white hair, streaked with reddish-orange, lay long and loose against his shoulders. He could easily do that with dye, Jack knew, but his face...

His eyebrows were the same shade of red that was streaked through his hair and on his chin was a red/orange rectangular tattoo that mirrored Ratchet’s chin-plate exactly. Despite all this, it was the man’s eyes that intrigued Jack. He’d never seen such a striking shade of teal-blue on any human before. Could it really be...?

“Team Prime—the Autobots’ names,” Jack said abruptly.

“Ratchet, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Bumblebee, Ultra Magnus, Smokescreen, Arcee, and Optimus Prime,” the man recited, his voice taking on a desperate note.

“But he could have gotten Agent Fowler’s folders from somewhere!” Raf reminded Jack nervously.

Jack leaned into the man’s face, eyes narrowed. “Alright, then. I’m going to ask you something only Ratchet would know. When he—supposedly you—were first explaining the ground bridge to us, Miko asked if she could visit her parents in Tokyo. How did Ratchet answer?”

The man sucked in a deep breath. “I said, ‘Within moments. In fact, allow me to send you there immediately—all three of you’.”

The children’s jaws dropped. Miko shuffled forward a bit, declaring in awe, “Ratchet, that _is_ you!”

At their medic’s miserable nod, Raf ran forward and gripped his arms, as though making sure he was solid. Once that was confirmed, Raf asked hesitantly, “What happened to you?”

Ratchet opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes glazed over and he swayed without warning. Jack caught him as he passed out and lowered him onto the floor, remaining in a crouching position near his head. Running his index finger over the bold Autobot sigil on Ratchet’s coat pocket, Jack murmured what they were all thinking:

“We have a big problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A picture of humanized! Ratchet (with Optimus as a bonus) [here](http://thewhovianhalfling.deviantart.com/art/TFP-Humanformers-Optimus-and-Ratchet-391479966)
> 
> I give credit to [lauren-bennett](http://lauren-bennett.deviantart.com/) on DeviantArt for the art. :)


	3. *Ratchet*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 3: "Missing" by Evanescence. 
> 
> Yeah, it's sad. :'(

When Ratchet onlined his optics—no, _opened_ his _eyes_ —he found himself on the medical bed Agent Fowler often occupied after time in the field. Turning his head, he saw Raf standing by his head, frowning sadly at him.

“Hi, Ratchet.”

Ratchet nodded mutely in acknowledgement, trying to sit up. Raf leaned forward and helped him out. When Ratchet looked down, he saw the flesh and clothing on his body and the awful chill of air in his throat hitched.

“I’m human,” he choked out, shaking his head vigorously against his own words. “I’m _human_!” He panicked, scrabbling at his flesh and leaving deep gashes. That sight horrified him even more, as the blood that surfaced was not blue but crimson.

“Stop!” Raf cried in horror, grabbing his wrists and trying to pull them apart. Miko bounded over to offer help, reaching around Raf to grab Ratchet’s shoulders and shake him vigorously.

“Snap out of it!” she hollered in his face. Ratchet’s eyes twitched as he tried to refocus on her close proximity. It was a new sensation, one that made his stomach (he had a _stomach_!) twist. Yanking his hands away from Raf, he pressed them over his mouth.

“I think—” His voice was a muffled croak.

Miko recognized that look. “Raf, get a bucket, cuz the Doc-Bot’s gonna puke!”

Raf scurried off and Ratchet watched him go dizzily. A sudden rush of burning bile strangled him and he doubled over. Miko jumped away, the vomit just barely missing her shoes. As he sputtered for breath, Ratchet felt Miko hesitantly pull his white and red hair away from his perspiring face. He didn’t even have time to thank her before the next wave struck him.

Raf returned at that moment, waving the bucket. “I got it—!”

“Too late,” Miko sighed, shaking her head. “Go get a mop instead.”

“I’m sorry,” Ratchet whispered.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Miko replied, her voice unusually compassionate. “We all do it sometimes.”

Ratchet lifted his eyes and saw her studying the strands of hair she held with a thoughtful expression. Perhaps it was because he was exhausted, but Ratchet felt a need to bring some authority into the situation.

“If you even think about dying my hair,” Ratchet wheezed, “I’ll cut off yours.”

“No, I wasn’t going to do that,” Miko laughed, waving him off. She clambered onto the bed next to him and clustered his hair into three loose strands.

Ratchet couldn’t see what she was doing, so he tried to inquire. “Miko—”

“I’m making your hair more manageable,” she explained breezily. Ratchet couldn’t help but fidget at the mystery, but Miko clicked her tongue. “Ut-tut-tut, hold still so I won’t do it wrong!”

Ratchet felt tightness in his throat and wondered minutely if he was going to vomit again, but instead wetness surfaced behind his eyes. Miko had sounded just like that confident Autobot Ratchet he had been only yesterday.

Raf reappeared with a mop and the bucket, now filled with soapy water. Grimacing slightly, he set to cleaning up the mess. Ratchet watched with wide eyes, numbly smearing the blood over his wrists. Raf noticed the motion and put the mop into the bucket, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a roll of bandages.

“Here, let me take care of that.”

“I’m supposed to be the medic,” Ratchet muttered, wishing he could turn off his pain receptors as Raf wrapped up the cuts.

“You’re still a medic,” Raf replied. “But even medics can get hurt, right?”

Ratchet nodded and winced when he felt his hair go taut because of it. Miko hummed approvingly as she twisted something onto the end of his hair.

“There!” she exclaimed. “Quite a nice braid, if I say so myself! Here, look.” Grinning broadly, she fished out the hand mirror he’d used earlier and put it in front of his face. Ratchet winced, lowering his eyes from the reflection for a long moment of hesitation before cautiously submitting to Miko’s order.

Now that he wasn’t half-blinded by terror, Ratchet could clearly see his pointed ears, sharp nose, tattooed jagged chin, and thin lips. He pursed the latter and turned his strikingly blue eyes to the loose but thick side-braid that lay against his right shoulder.

“It’s nice,” he said without conviction. “Thank you. And thank you, Rafael,” he added as the boy finished binding his wounds.

“No problem,” Raf replied sympathetically. The three turned at the rumble of an engine. “Jack’s back with Mrs. Darby,” Raf announced.

June Darby barely lifted a hand in greeting to the kids as she got out of Jack’s car and hurried up the steps toward them. She stopped a few yards away, her mouth falling open as she saw that what Jack had told her was true.

“Ratchet?”

“In the...” Ratchet ducked his head to hide his raging emotions. “...flesh.”


	4. *June*

June stepped back from the medical bed, throwing up her hands. “Well, it’s definitely you, Ratchet, and you’re definitely human, but I don’t even know where to go from there.”

Ratchet stared at her wordlessly but June knew he wasn’t seeing her. Trying to call his attention back to the present, she asked, “Um...a-are you hungry? Thirsty?”

The Autobot medic startled, his eyes clearing as he processed the question. “I don’t know what the human sensations are for that,” he responded flatly, “but I’d give anything for some high-grade energon so I could get drunk and forget this nightmare.”

June shook her head. “You know energon doesn’t mix with human systems.”

Ratchet’s eyes narrowed. “That was heavy sarcasm.”

June paused, shrinking slightly under the weight of his intense gaze. “Ratchet, I want to help.”

“I know you do,” Ratchet agreed, the rigidity of his voice slipping. “But there isn’t much to be done.”

“We need to get some food into you,” June decided. “Now that you’re human, you need to take care of yourself so that you’ll be in top shape when you become an Autobot again. C’mon, I’ll take you to my house. You can eat dinner with me and Jack.”

“We’re going too,” Miko announced, popping up at her shoulder. “No way I’m gonna let him outta my sight, just in case he tries to take out his braid.”

Raf shrugged uncertainly in something between agreement and hesitation.

June nodded. “Alright, I’ll let your parents know.” She held out a hand to Ratchet, who beheld it blankly. “C’mon,” she nudged. “We’re going to my house.”

Ratchet eventually took her hand and she helped him up, leading him to the car. When she opened up the passenger door, he stopped, leaning against it.

“I’ve...never been inside a car,” he murmured, his entire form radiating apprehension. “I’ve always _been_ the car.”

“Just sit down,” June urged gently, “and buckle the seatbelt.” She couldn’t believe she actually had to explain this to another human...

As she drove out of the base, June discreetly studied the man sitting next to her. He was looking straight ahead, his shoulders tight and his hands clenched in his lap.

“What happened?” June asked in concern when she noticed the bandages on his wrists.

“Nothing,” was the curt reply. “Just a scratch or two.”

“I’m a doctor too, you know,” June said quietly. There was an awkward silence and then Jack leaned forward from the backseat.

“Hey, Ratchet, guess you’ll be staying with us, huh?”

“Guess,” Ratchet echoed tightly.

“Yes, you will,” June confirmed. “I’m not going to let you sit around the base and sulk.” She released an overly cheery laugh. “Best you do it with some company.”

Ratchet sighed deeply and leaned his forehead against the window, closing his eyes. June found herself a tiny bit disappointed. She felt sorry for him, as he obviously detested this new situation, but she couldn’t help admiring his eyes...

They reached the Darby home in fairly good time and June gave Ratchet an encouraging smile as she unbuckled her seatbelt. He glanced down at his own buckle, tapping it hesitantly to see if it would unlock.

“You press the red part,” Jack said under his breath. Ratchet flushed for one moment and paled the next, as the heat of embarrassment was unfamiliar. June smiled again and leaned over, undoing the belt for him.

As they entered through the garage door, Ratchet studied the inside of the house with apprehension. June motioned for him to follow her to the kitchen.

“I’m going to make us some pasta and you better watch,” June explained as she got out a pot. “You might be doing it for—” She trailed off as she looked over her shoulder at Ratchet and saw the indescribable sadness practically burned onto his face. “—for a little bit,” June finished uncomfortably. “Um, okay, I’m turning on the stove now. You have to turn the knob like this and pause until the gasoline in there lights.”

“Very well.”

It might have been a trick of the light, June thought as the burner ignited, but she thought she saw the reflection of tears in Ratchet’s eyes. She pursed her lips in concern and Ratchet noticed, blinking rapidly.

“Pasta,” he muttered.

June nodded and pointed to a cupboard. “Get one of the bags in there,” she requested. When Ratchet opened the cupboard and gave a doubtful grunt, June added, “One of the bags with—ah, sort of tan squiggly things.”

Soon enough June was stirring the pasta in the pot with Ratchet looking over her shoulder. She gestured for him to come closer. “Here, take over. All you have to do is stir it.”

Ratchet carefully took the ladle from her and obeyed, spreading thin the foam on the surface of the water. Gasping, he lurched back when he felt the steam and the ladle toppled. Ratchet reached out to grab it and yelped in pain as the burner scorched him.

“What are you doing, Ratchet?!” June demanded incredulously, picking the ladle off the floor and setting it on the counter. “Let me see your hand.”

“No!” Ratchet barked, backing away from her and clutching his hand to his chest. “I’m _fine_!” So saying, he shoved past her and stormed down one of the hallways. June followed him, shouting that he didn’t know where he was going, but he miraculously found one of the guest bedrooms, went in, and slammed the door behind him.

June stood in front of it for a long while, seething quietly. She could sense Ratchet on the other side, doing the same. Finally June leaned her head against the door.

“Ratchet,” she whispered. “I want to help you.”

“You can’t,” was the muffled reply.

“The way I can help you,” June finished, trying to regain her calm, “is by teaching you how to sleep. Jack tells me you’ve never done it before; you’ve always... _recharged_ , whatever that means. So go to the bed that’s in the corner and get underneath the blanket that’s on it.”

After what seemed an eternity of silence, June heard the bedsprings creak.

“Good. Now close your eyes and try not to think. No, wait—think of not thinking. Think of _nothing_.” June waited a minute and repeated the order, quieter than before. It was only when she heard deep, albeit labored, breathing that she walked away.


	5. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 5: "In the Dark" by Flyleaf.
> 
> **Trigger Warning: Self-Harm ******

“Ratchet, what happened to you?!” Optimus asked, visibly trying to conceal his disbelief.

Ratchet didn’t even try to stifle the sob that rose in his throat as he leaned forward and hugged Optimus’ foot. This was his best friend and he desperately needed him.

“I was turned into a human,” Ratchet gasped out wretchedly, feeling the need to voice his transformation even though the evidence was right in front of the Prime. “I don’t know how, but you have to help me, Optimus, please! I don’t know what to do!”

“And you expect _me_ to know?” Optimus stammered. Ratchet fumbled as his grip was forcibly removed, Optimus nudging him away with a gigantic finger.

“Optimus?” Ratchet ventured as the finger kept pushing at him, eventually knocking him down with a pained grunt of surprise.

“That’s better,” Optimus announced, sounding all too pleased. “Makes it harder for you to run, doesn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?!” Ratchet cried in dismay.

“As you once told me,” Optimus reminded him with a mocking grin, “humans have no protective shell. If they get underfoot they will go—well, I’ll know in a few moments, won’t I?”

“No!” Ratchet howled, bolting upright so quickly he toppled head over heels and thumped painfully onto the floor at the foot of his bed. Chest heaving, he scrambled to get ahold of his senses.

He was in the Darby house, Ratchet realized, slumping against the bed and wiping frenziedly at the sweat drenching his starkly human face, hating it. What a nightmare...

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Mrs. Darby,” he murmured furiously. “Well, I won’t trust this human ‘sleeping’ again!” Wincing, he rubbed at the burn on his hand, making a mental note to dislike stoves from now on as well.

From now on. Ratchet shivered at the thought. If he remained in this body for too long, Ratchet knew he would go insane. That reminded him. Rolling up the sleeves of his white overcoat, Ratchet slowly undid the bandages on his wrists.

The blood had dried on the cuts. Ratchet stared at it, wondering if, somewhere in his body, there was lingering energon. Sucking in a breath, he set the fingernails of his left hand over the cuts on his right wrist and pressed them deep, hoping beyond hope—

Crimson. _Crimson_. Crimson blood! Ratchet squeaked at the sight, slumping down onto his side and curling into a ball with his bloody fingers in front of his face.

But the smell...Ratchet would have to get used to the concept of scents, this one first. His blood smelled tangy. Ratchet felt elation at that adjective. Tangy, like metal, like his true form. He closed his eyes, dragging in the air. He had previous hated its chill in his body, but now the chill was edged with the blood’s iron fragrance and it was comforting to him.

But if any of the humans found out, he recalled with a start, they would try to stop him, to take away this, the only physical reminder of how he was _supposed_ to be.

A secret then, Ratchet decided, sitting back up and rewinding the bandages.

A knock on the door caught his attention. “Ratchet?” Jack’s voice. “You okay in there? I heard you yell—”

“Fine,” Ratchet responded perhaps a tad too quickly as he stood and opened the door. Gingerly he laid a hand over his middle. “But all these sensations are new to me. Jack, does it mean something bad when my stomach starts _growling_?”

Much to Ratchet’s confusion, Jack laughed. “It means you’re hungry. I can’t say I blame you; you skipped dinner last night and all.”

Ratchet’s lips twisted in disgust. “Yes, I remember all too well. Shall we get to dinner now?”

“Breakfast, you mean,” Jack corrected.

Ratchet sputtered. “W-What?!”

“Breakfast comes first, then lunch in the afternoon, and dinner last,” Jack explained patiently as he led Ratchet back down the hallway.

“Oh, yes, I researched that,” Ratchet agreed. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he lamented, “I know all these things, but this human processor can access so few things at a time!” When Jack gave him a look, Ratchet bit his lip, another new sensation, and muttered, “Human brain, not processor.”

Jack pulled out two bowls and set them on the table, along with a new, unopened box of cereal. “Dish yourself up,” he called as he stuck his head in the fridge to find the milk.

Ratchet picked up the box and was relieved to find the words ‘Open Here’ on one of the colorful ends. Once that was done, he pulled out the bag of cereal and studied it closely. There were no directional words on the bag whatsoever.

“How do I—?” he started to ask.

“You just rip it open,” Jack interrupted.

Steeling himself, Ratchet did as Jack said—and sent Lucky Charms exploding all over the kitchen. Ratchet stood frozen in the center of the unexpected disaster, gaping at the equally frozen Jack.

“Next time,” Jack advised when he found his voice, “don’t listen to me. Tell me to open it.”

“I’m sorry,” Ratchet blurted out as he backed away from the mess, crushing pieces of cereal under his tentative feet.

“It’s fine,” Jack replied, waving him off with forced nonchalance. “I’ll just clean it up and then make some eggs.”

Ratchet nodded, heading into the adjoining living room. He was surprised to find Miko and Rafael there, huddled over the computer Raf carried with him.

“What are you doing here?” Ratchet asked, causing them both to jump.

“We stayed the night,” Miko said, flashing him a hurried smile. “Kinda impromptu.”

“And now we’re just doing things,” Raf answered woodenly. “On my computer.”

Ratchet found the human emotion of suspicion quite close to the Autobot version, so he drew it out to feel it as long as possible. “What sort of things?”

The two glanced at each other uneasily and then back at him. “Alright, doc,” Miko sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “You got us. Here, have a look.”

Ratchet found it hard to balance the surprisingly heavy laptop, but when he succeeded, he studied the screen and frowned in puzzlement. “Is this a television show?”

“Yeah,” Raf confirmed. “It’s called _Star Trek: The Next Generation_.” Standing, he came over and pointed to one of the characters on the screen. “That’s Data. He’s a robot, like you.”

Ratchet felt his off-kilter spark ache. “But he looks human.”

“He was built that way,” Miko explained. “But he doesn’t really understand the human way of doing things. He’s trying though—just like you.” She patted Ratchet’s shoulder comfortingly. “You’re not alone, Doc-Bot.”

After a long pause, Ratchet swallowed his emotions and made his way to the couch to watch the episode.


	6. *Miko*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 6: "Hero" by Mariah Carey

Miko was relieved that Raf’s idea had worked. Ratchet seemed to be connecting with the show she and Raf had chosen, occasionally commenting on a character who interested him—mostly Data, which was a good thing.

When Jack called that breakfast was ready, Miko leaned over Ratchet’s lap and paused the show, causing the medic to give her a miffed glare.

“You have to eat,” she reminded him and he grumbled, much to her delight. He was sounding a bit more like himself. “I see you kept my braid in,” Miko remarked happily.

Ratchet fidgeted. “It does seem to be a better arrangement for me,” he agreed grudgingly.

“Yeah, but you slept in it!” Miko scolded as she tugged on the red and white tail. “I’ll redo it after breakfast. You don’t wanna lose the sense of style I gave you, right?”

“I had an excellent sense of style on my own, thank you!” Ratchet snapped defensively. Miko released the braid in order to throw up her hands.

“Well, sorry! I’m just helping—”

“Let’s go eat,” Raf cut in nervously before they could get into a fight.

Tension leaked into the mood when they all sat across from each other. Jack didn’t seem to realize what had happened, but he was afraid to break the silence. Miko was watching Ratchet discreetly, watching how he inspected the eggs on his plate. When he tried to pick up the egg with his hand, she cleared her throat and subtly nodded toward the fork.

Ratchet picked it up and put the egg on it just fine, but he didn’t seem to understand what to do with it next. “You put it in your mouth,” Miko prompted. Ratchet cautiously obeyed and she waved a hand for him to go on. “Now take the fork out—no, no, no, you leave the egg in. Good, now chew and swallow.”

The attempt resulted in Ratchet choking on his food, panicking at the new constriction, and leaping for the sink so he could spit it out. Miko sighed. Even Neelix had had more success with Seven of Nine on _Star Trek: Voyager_.

Jack looked embarrassed when Ratchet returned looking somewhat green in the face. “Are my eggs that bad?”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Ratchet croaked. “I’m just—not used to human food. My entire life, the only thing I’ve ingested is energon. What I wouldn’t give for some energon right now...”

“It’s not exactly good for humans, though,” Raf said, shivering as he remembered his near-death experience with the substance.

“Yes, everyone seems keen on telling me that. But I’ll venture it’s unlike anything you’ve ever tasted!” Ratchet argued, sitting up straighter. “Sweet and light and rich, the life of our sparks.” Running his fingers over the tattoo on his chin, he muttered mournfully, “Only a second day of being in this scrapheap body...”

Miko frowned. “We’re not scrapheap bodies!”

“You are to me!” Ratchet shouted, standing up so quickly that he upset his chair. Then he groaned, bending over the table and slapping his hands over his ears. Miko rose also, leaning forward.

“You okay, Ratch?”

“That’s called _orthostatic hypotension_ , doctor,” June said as she entered the room. “Your blood pressure dropped because you stood up too quickly. Focus on breathing.”

Miko watched the color slowly return to the medic’s face. They met eyes for a moment and Ratchet swallowed as he stepped back, righted his chair, and slunk off. Miko followed him despite the aura of ‘I-want-to-be-alone’ that he was casting.

Miraculously Ratchet managed to unlock and open the front door and step out into the yard. Miko stood beside him and followed his eyes to a car that was turning the corner.

“You have to keep trying,” Miko said simply. “There’s...y’know, hope.”

Ratchet scoffed. “Hope? I haven’t had hope for centuries.”

“But you’re one of us now,” Miko protested. How could she make him understand? “You need to learn these things or you’ll—you’ll _die_.”

Ratchet turned toward her, his face dark. “In my time on this planet, I’ve interacted with a total of five humans—five!—and I would be lying if I said I completely enjoyed it. Humans are so frail compared to Cybertronians. The human body and mind are small and slow and weak and _I’m not supposed to have one!_ ”

Miko took a step back, unnerved by his thunderous tone. Ratchet seemed to notice her disbelief and relaxed slightly, but his face betrayed that his emotions were boiling dangerously below the surface.

“You say I need to learn these things or I’ll die,” he repeated, his voice cold. “Now that I’m a human, I’m dead already.” He turned, seeming to think the conversation was over, but Miko wasn’t going to let him have the last word.

“Would you say that if Optimus were here?!” she cried, making him stiffen in a way that pleased her. She kept going, a plan already percolating in her mind. “If your high and mighty leader were here, you’d keep trying because you’re always so _eager_ to impress him! You roll all over everyone with your smarts, secretly hoping that Optimus’ll be proud of you.” Barking out a laugh, Miko crossed her arms and sneered, “But if this is what you’re really like, I can’t believe you’ve actually fooled him for this long! You’re not so tough.”

Ratchet whirled, doubling his fists in rage. “How dare you?!”

“No, how dare you!” Miko retorted. “You would risk your own life just because you don’t _want_ to live?! Well, I’ll tell you somethin’, doctor—” Here she moved in, grabbing the lapels of his coat and jerking him down so they were nose to nose. “Your parents, your teachers, your friends, they’d all be ashamed of you. _Optimus would be ashamed of you_.”

Even when she fell silent, Miko kept ahold of Ratchet’s coat, waiting for her words to sink in. Much to her secret delight, an expression of utter clarity dawned on his face—but with it, suffering that ran deeper than she probably understood.

“Th-thank you, Miko,” Ratchet said shakily, brushing her hands away and stumbling back toward the house. Miko stood in the yard, blinking in confusion at the simple words. When she reentered, Ratchet’s plate of eggs had vanished from the table and the door to the guest bedroom was closed.


	7. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet really needs a hug sometime soon (but he won't get it) D:

_I’m going to do this_ , Ratchet told himself fiercely, jabbing the food with his fork and stuffing it into his mouth. _I’m going to eat this egg even if I_ —He gagged, bringing his plate beneath his chin so he could free his throat.

“—choke on it,” he finished his thought hoarsely, rubbing at the ache in his throat that he could do nothing about.

A knock summoned him to the door. When he opened it, he found June standing there. She instantly made a face. “You need a shower, sir.”

Ratchet blinked in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“You need to wash,” June explained, “and change into different clothes.”

Ratchet lurched back, hugging himself. “B-but I can’t!” he refused, aghast. “What’s on me is _part_ of me!”

“Not anymore,” June tried to reason with him, instead making him all the angrier. “Here, let me show you—”

“No! Look at this!” He pointed to the Autobot symbol on his coat pocket. “This is mine! These colors are mine! I can’t just...just _strip off_ my top layer of armor, can I?!”

“Humans don’t have armor!” June cried, throwing up her hands.

“This human does!” Ratchet argued. “Or _will_ , when I return to normal!”

A muscle twitched in June’s jaw, but she gave a terse nod. “Fine, then. Come with me.”

Ratchet was wary of her, but June was insistent, seizing his arm and dragging him down the hall to a room painted white. A portion of the room was separated by a curtain, which June shoved aside. She then unbound his hair and gestured for him to stand in the small box-like area.

“What are you planning to do?” he asked suspiciously.

“You’re still going to wash,” June announced calmly. “But since you won’t take off your clothes, they’ll have to get washed too. Let’s hope your belt is waterproof.”

The idea of a compromise didn’t seem so bad, Ratchet decided, obediently stepping into the box. June sighed and leaned over, pulling on a knob in the wall. Ratchet watched with curiosity—until he was blinded by a gush of freezing cold water smashing into his face.

“ _Arghh!_ ” he howled, slipping in the water and falling on his backside with a loud thud.

“I’m sorry! Are you okay?!” June shouted over the spattering of the shower. “Here, let me warm it up a little!”

“G-g-good idea,” Ratchet agreed miserably, curling into himself and shivering. His clothes hung on his thin frame, dragging heavily through the water rising around him. He saw now why June had said he should undress first, but he wasn’t willing to admit her accuracy.

The water was finally getting warmer and Ratchet eventually relaxed, peering up at June. “How does this work?” he asked.

“You just...scrub yourself until you think you’re clean,” June said, vaguely making rubbing motions up and down her arms. Ratchet echoed her movements and she nodded encouragingly.

All at once Jack called from the other room, “Mom! Agent Fowler’s here!”

Ratchet perked up. “Fowler?” Perhaps the agent’s connections would help him find a cure for this madness—!

“I’ll go handle him,” June snuffed his hopes sternly. “You scrub.”

Ratchet huffed, sending strands of hair that hadn’t gotten wet yet flying off his forehead. “Yes, yes, yes...”

“And don’t forget to wash your hair,” June added as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

Ratchet watched her go and then lowered his head, dunking it beneath the surface. He tried to speak under the water but had to jerk back up again to breathe, much to his disappointment. Absentmindedly he rubbed his sleeves and splashed his feet, hoping to send his thoughts across the galaxy.

_See, Optimus? I’m trying, I really am...Be proud of me._

Ratchet’s eyes widened when he saw a pale cloud of red shoot through the water. When he looked anxiously at his wrists, he saw the bandages had come undone. Frantically he tried to rewrap them, but they were too wet to stick.

Were human cuts supposed to be soaked in water? Ratchet didn’t know, so he decided to get out before they got too watery. He left the bandages in the water and stood, flapping his arms wildly to get the wet off. If only human wash racks dried the user afterward as Bot wash racks did.

Ratchet very nearly slipped as he set foot on the no-longer-dry tile, but he caught himself and tiptoed forward, bracing himself with a hand on the wall.

As he entered the hall, Ratchet could hear voices speaking from the kitchen and plodded determinedly toward them, undeterred by his sopping wet and somewhat uncomfortable clothing.

“...How is that possible?” That was Agent Fowler, Ratchet knew immediately. “Was he doing some kind of hullaballoo experiment with himself or something?”

“I have no idea,” June answered sadly. “But he’s so—he doesn’t know _anything_ , Bill. He doesn’t even know how to swallow food or use the toilet! It’s all such an inconvenience, a pain. I don’t know what to do. I have to go to work and the kids have to go to school; no one can stay here and babysit him _all_ the time—”

“I don’t need babysitting!” Ratchet hollered, forgetting in his anger that he had wanted to go unnoticed. June and Fowler each wore the expressions of startled animals, Ratchet saw as he rounded the corner. “I can be a human my own way!” he continued, but his next sentence broke off as his wet feet spun out from underneath him. As he fell, Ratchet was aware of something crashing painfully into him and then darkness invaded.


	8. *Fowler*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch??

Agent Fowler leapt to his feet just as Ratchet lost control of his own, flailing his arms out in an attempt to catch the humanized bot, but he was too late. The next thing he knew, Ratchet was unconscious on the ground, his body grotesquely splayed in a swiftly growing pool of water.

Everything happened in some kind of slow-motion blur and Fowler found himself driving toward the hospital with the Autobot medic wrapped up in a towel in the back and June wringing her hands in the passenger seat.

As soon as they arrived, doctors whisked Ratchet away and Fowler felt free to put an arm around June’s shoulders.

“He’ll be fine,” he said with confidence he didn’t feel. “He’s a doctor himself, remember? If anything, he’ll probably wake up and start telling everyone how to do their jobs.”

June rewarded him with a quiet laugh. “Probably,” she agreed.

Fowler carefully dropped his arm from her shoulders when it became too uncomfortable, remarking, “He’s...different as a human. Strangely familiar, but different. That hair is wild!”

“Yeah.” June was obviously struggling to come up with conversation to distract them both just as much as he was. “And his eyes are really stunning.” Fowler gave her an odd look and she explained hastily, “I mean, you know—surprising.”

Fowler nodded, the wheels turning in his mind as he noticed the slight pink in her cheeks. He wasn’t ignorant. If Ratchet had relied on June as much as she said he did these past few days, it was common sense that they would form a bond. Besides, June was a single mom and Ratchet a single...bot—man—being.

Or was he? Fowler wondered. Ratchet had never said anything about having a wife, but he had never denied it either. Fowler filed the idea away for confirmation from Ratchet later, when he had returned to normal.

But, despite all he had seen, Fowler had never seen anything like this. Complete racial transformation? Ratchet may never revert to his true state.

Eventually one of the doctors returned to them and Fowler stiffened slightly at June’s overly anxious tone as she asked, “How is he?”

“Doing better,” he assured them with a smile that Fowler thought was a bit tight. “He’s already awake. You probably know the S.O.P. for these types of things, Nurse Darby.”

“Ask him questions to see how severe the damage is, of course,” June confirmed.

“And believe me, we’re trying,” the doctor said, the smile falling away. “But he’s...stubborn. He won’t even tell us his name. Is that typical of him?”

June sighed deeply. “Very typical. Let me talk to him and I’ll sort him out.”

Fowler peered around the doorframe of the room the doctor directed them to and saw Ratchet sitting up in bed, glaring venomously at those surrounding him. June rolled her eyes as she pushed past the others and stood at the foot of the bed.

“Ferris,” she admonished, “change that look on your face right now.”

Ratchet immediately obeyed, mostly out of shock at being called a different name. Fowler stared at her with just as much surprise. Where had she come up with that?

Forcing her tone to soften, June continued, “We’re here to help you. Just let them work. They know what they’re doing.”

Ratchet bristled. “But they don’t know—”

“They know more than you,” June pointed out sharply. Ratchet apparently had no satisfactory response to that and maintained a sullen silence as he nodded once his consent.

“Now,” the doctor cut in, pleased at the change, “how were you injured, Mr. Ferris?”

“I fell,” Ratchet answered flatly. “Slipped on the floor this morning. And by the way—yes, I lost consciousness; yes, I have a headache; no, I haven’t been ill; no, I haven’t been given illegal medicine; and no, I haven’t been drinking high-grade energ—” He froze, the word ‘energon’ hanging off his lips. He cleared his throat and finished awkwardly, “—ener _gizing_ alcoholic substances.”

Fowler grew bolder and ventured into the room. “Special Agent William Fowler,” he announced himself, flashing his badge. “This man is part of a government operation. Will you please leave us alone?”

Once the medical staff had exited the room and the door was closed, Fowler turned a hard stare on Ratchet. “What are you doing, drawing attention to yourself by being so stubborn?!”

“They’re all so ignorant!” Ratchet complained, turning a dark look at June. “And what are _you_ doing, calling me ‘Ferris’?”

“That’s your human alias now,” she declared. “Ferris Darby.”

Fowler’s eyebrows rose. “Catchy,” he remarked, but from the look on Ratchet’s face, he didn’t agree.

“Fowler, are you going to get me out of here?” was all the bedridden medic said in response.

“Of course, but you _did_ fall on your head,” Fowler reminded him. “You should probably stay here a night for observation.”

“Mrs. Darby’s a nurse!” Ratchet protested. “She can ‘observe’ me just fine at our home.” His face drained of color and he pressed his eyes closed for a moment, massaging his temples in a very human gesture. “ _Her_ home. Besides, I’m fine.”

“You said you had a headache.”

“I _did_ fall on my head,” Ratchet reminded him sardonically. “And you humans have so many pain processors in these brains of yours, it’s bound to ache a bit.”

Fowler glanced helplessly at June, who shook her head.

“No. You’re staying here, mostly because of that broken arm you’ve been trying to hide ever since we came in.” Ratchet took in a deep breath to start yelling and June took that opportunity to continue. “I’ll stay with you for a little while and then leave so I can clean up the mess you made at home.”

“How was I supposed to dry myself?!” Ratchet demanded defensively. “Besides—” He stopped abruptly. “Where are my clothes?”

“What?” Fowler and June were both caught off-guard by the sudden change of subject.

“My clothes!” Ratchet screeched, on the edge of hysteria. “Why am I wearing this blue thing? Where are my clothes?! They’re part of me; I need them if I’m ever going to be the same again—!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go and find them, I promise,” June soothed, giving Fowler a longsuffering expression as she passed.


	9. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meh. :(

Ratchet jerked awake, disoriented and gasping from the dream he’d had. The room was dark, but he could still see Agent Fowler sitting in a chair nearby.

“Why are you watching me sleep?” Ratchet asked rather rudely.

Fowler shrugged, not with hesitance but something Ratchet knew was probably guilt.

“Oh. You haven’t been alone with me as a human, have you?”

“Ah, no.” Fowler glanced down into his lap. “I was telling June earlier, you’re different as a human.”

“I know.” Ratchet rubbed the curve of his throat, frowning as he became aware of a strange feeling.

“What is it?” Fowler asked, leaning forward. “Your neck hurting from the fall?”

“No, I’m...I don’t know!” Ratchet answered, disconcerted. “My throat hurts when I swallow.”

Fowler lunged to his feet, pacing hastily back and forth. “Should—should I get one of the doctors?”

“No, I—I don’t think it means something dangerous,” Ratchet tried to explain. “But I can’t describe it. It’s like it’s...burned out.”

“What?!” Agent Fowler’s mouth fell open.

“For Primus’ sake!” Ratchet swore viciously, slamming his fists on the bedspread and then yelping as he hugged his broken arm. Groaning, he rocked back and forth, trying to ease his own pain.

“I think...” he whispered in agony, “...I’m _thirsty_.”

Fowler instantly sagged in relief. “Oh, okay. Here.” Turning on a nearby light, the agent picked up a glass of water and held it out. Ratchet sighed at the sight of the water, blaming the substance for putting him in here in the first place, but he reached out to take it and then stopped midway.

“What is that?” he demanded.

“What’s what?”

“That...striped stick in the water.”

“I-It’s a straw,” Agent Fowler explained apprehensively, no doubt noticing how his face had darkened at the sight of it. “You drink out of it.”

“I thought one was supposed to drink out of the glass.” Ratchet was inexplicably getting more and more irritated by the second.

“Well, yes, but you kind of have to suck the water from the glass through the straw. See, it’s hollow.”

“Hmph,” Ratchet grumbled. “All these contraptions for such a simple task!”

“You don’t have to use the straw if you don’t want to,” Agent Fowler told him hastily.

“ _Please_ , make up your mind!” Ratchet cried, throwing up his one good hand incredulously. “Here, just give it to me.” Muttering, he grabbed the glass from Fowler and did his best to drink it. On the outside, he probably seemed very calm and natural, but on the inside...

_Easy...swallow easily! Don’t choke on it, don’t—don’t—swallow, stay calm, just breathe—agh!_

Coughing harshly, he shoved the glass back at Fowler, who juggled it to keep from falling.

“Can’t...can’t breathe through my mouth while I dr-drink, can I?” Ratchet wheezed.

“No,” Fowler said apologetically as he set the glass on the beside table. He fidgeted slightly. “Ratchet...when I handed the glass to you just then...what happened to your arms?”

Ratchet rolled his eyes, which he found rather satisfying. “Well, I broke this one, but this one is fine.”

“No, I mean the cuts.”

Ratchet couldn’t help it—he shrank back against the pillow slightly. “I...well, the—these human customs—” He couldn’t find an acceptable lie fast enough. “I...hurt myself,” he finished lamely.

“You’re cutting?!” Fowler gasped in disbelief.

“Yes! Is that so bad?!” Ratchet barked angrily.

“Terrible is what that is! Listen, Ratchet, you need—”

“I knew it. All you humans are the same, telling me what I can and can’t do!”

Agent Fowler shrugged hugely. “Well, you don’t exactly know what’s good for you on your own—”

“You think I’m a child?!” Ratchet demanded furiously.

“Yes,” Agent Fowler said calmly, snuffing the doctor’s oncoming rant. “You need to understand this: in this society, with all that you don’t know, you are a _child_ in a _man’s_ body.”

Ratchet stared at him, mouth open to retort, but the realization was so staggering that he made an attempt to slash himself right there. Fowler didn’t have to do anything, however, as he found that the cast on his left arm was impenetrable.

“Now,” Fowler continued, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m no counselor, but I want to know what makes you do it.”

Ratchet was in a corner now. He could either bark and bite his way out of it or tell the truth. Right now he was too tired for a rampage, he decided, exhaling slowly.

“The smell of it.”

Fowler’s face contorted in confused disgust.

“It smells _good_ ,” Ratchet mumbled mournfully. “Like metal. Blood smells like metal and it comforts me. There’s nothing I’ve found so far that rivals it.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be able to find any candles that smell like blood,” Fowler mused.

Ratchet didn’t know if he was being sarcastic, but frankly he didn’t care. “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

“I’m going to help you,” Fowler announced. “How, I don’t know, but I will.”

“Why?”

“Because of my mother,” Fowler said, which didn’t really explain it, but he stood, turned off the light, and made for the door before Ratchet could inquire. “Take advantage of the hours you have left to sleep, alright?”

Ratchet lay in the quiet with his eyes closed for a long while, his mind drifting. It was a new sensation, he mused sleepily. Usually his processor was sharply focused on each subject, even if there were a lot of them. But right now, his mind was on...

_“Until we meet again, old friend.”_

Ratchet sat ramrod straight, the memory still stark even though his eyes were now open. He would face Optimus one day, perhaps later than sooner, but what if he was still human? What would he say to his friend?

_“I’m sorry, Optimus. This isn’t how I pictured us meeting again...Now I’m too small to hug you or hold your hand and I don’t even have an EM field to show you how much I missed you.”_

Ratchet shuddered and turned on his side, curling into a tight ball and crying himself to sleep like the child he was.


	10. *Raf*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny in the air...

Raf eyed the things in the hospital gift shop with distaste. Ratchet wouldn’t understand anything they had here, much less like them. Therefore he gave up and wandered his way down the hall toward the room Mrs. Darby had indicated.

The boy hated hospitals. They made him uneasy and he couldn’t believe Ratchet had been composed enough to stay the night in one. Of course, he was a doctor, Raf had to remind himself. Maybe he felt more comfortable here.

The muffled shouting he heard behind the closed door changed Raf’s mind. He leaned his ear against the door, trying to understand what he was listening to. He flinched when he heard a loud bang and knocked vigorously, hoping Ratchet would open the door so he could help.

“Um, Ratchet? It’s Raf—”

The door opened before he could give an explanation for his presence. Ratchet was panting, but seemed alright otherwise. He was wearing the same clothing he’d had when they’d first seen him in the base, but it was rather rumpled.

“Good morning,” Ratchet said in a monotone.

“Hi,” Raf greeted hesitantly. “You okay?”

“Fine,” was the clipped response. “Come in if you want.”

Raf did so, noticing a shredded blue hospital gown in a heap on the floor. “Have a little trouble with that?” he asked apologetically.

“If by ‘a little trouble’, you mean I’ve been trying to get my real clothes on for the last hour, yes, I did,” Ratchet retorted caustically.

“Maybe I should come back later,” Raf said quickly, “when you’re in a better mood.”

“No, wait,” Ratchet protested as he made a beeline for the door. “I’m sorry, Rafael.”

An apology from Ratchet? That was worth listening to, Raf decided, pausing. “It’s okay, I guess. You’re still figuring out how to be...well, you know. And broken arms aren’t very helpful.”

“They aren’t,” Ratchet agreed with a humorless laugh as he gestured to the torn blue clothing. “It took me ages to get that off with one hand.”

Raf smiled. “I’ll bet. Other than that, how are you?”

Ratchet shrugged offhandedly with a wan smile. “It’s only my third day, but...it feels like it’s been years.”

Biting his lip, Raf murmured, “I was wondering if you would let me help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I could try to find a cure—”

“Yes! Do it!”

“—but I don’t know where to begin,” Raf finished reluctantly. “I need you to tell me what you were doing when it happened.”

Ratchet sank down on the bed, kicking his shoeless feet. “I was...working on...” He flushed deeply and ducked his head.

“What? What were you working on?” Raf pressed.

“Synthetic energon.”

Raf’s jaw dropped. “Did it work?”

“Not how I wanted it to,” Ratchet mumbled. “Maybe my body was rejecting it because of what happened the first time—”

“You were using it on yourself again?!”

“Well, yes, but I thought Shockwave and I had completed it when I was captured—”

“Ratchet! What were you thinking?!”

“I was thinking,” Ratchet snapped, “that if I could finish the tests, I could take it to Cybertron. The others need it while they’re rebuilding!”

Raf ran his hands through his hair. “So you used yourself as a test subject again.”

“I didn’t know I was going to reject it,” Ratchet argued his correctness, “much less change my whole body with it!” His eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Wait. Do you think...that’s what I need to change back?”

Raf was so shaken by the thought that he took a step back. “Another dose?! But you’re human now—that will kill you!”

Ratchet looked dismayed. “But—”

“It will kill you!” Raf repeated. “Believe me, I was almost there!”

“I remember. But I saved you, remember? I can handle myself and if the energon didn’t kill me, it would _save_ me,” Ratchet countered grimly. “I think I owe it to myself, to Optimus and the others, to give it a try.”

“Ratchet, what happens if you end up like me?” Raf demanded. “The only way you saved me was with—”

“Regular energon,” Ratchet finished, nodding. “Hm...if another dose of synth-en doesn’t do it, perhaps regular energon would.”

“So you’re going to try _both_?!” Raf cried, horrified that his attempt to deter the medic only resulted in encouragement. “Ratchet, that’s a horrible idea!”

“It’s the only chance I’ve got!” Ratchet matched his volume. “Nothing and no one is going to stop me from trying to become myself again! If I stay in this body, everything I am is lost forever! And you can either help me or not, but don’t try to stop me. Please.”

Raf hoped that wasn’t a threat, but he wasn’t sure, so he remained silent, staring at the floor.

“I’m going back to the Darby’s,” Ratchet said after a moment. “If you want, you can come.”

“How are you going to get there?” Raf asked.

Ratchet looked somewhat insulted. “I’m going to drive, of course!”

Raf’s eyes went wide. “B-But you...” When Ratchet’s expression teetered on the edge of vulnerability, Raf finished, “You don’t have any shoes.”

“So?” Ratchet didn’t seem to understand.

“Well, um, it’ll be uncomfortable on your feet,” Raf tried. “We have to go to a shoe store and get you something.”

“But we’d have to drive there, wouldn’t we?” Ratchet pressed.

“Well, I have to go to school!” 

“Then I will take you.” Before Raf could come up with another excuse, Ratchet got to his feet and put a hand on his shoulder that was probably supposed to be reassuring. “Come now, Raf, I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”


	11. *Jack*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the penny drops!

Jack was left feeling puzzled and uneasy when he got home from school. He hadn’t seen Raf anywhere and he was certain he’d heard his friend say he was coming.

Trying to push aside his emotions, Jack flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV to the news.

_“...a major accident on Murdoch Street, blocking all traffic from here to 8 th,” the crewman was saying. “Channel 4 could barely get a cam in, but when they did, this was the scene.”_

Jack leaned forward, openmouthed when the camera cut to the devastation on the street. His heart immediately jumped when he saw an ambulance in the center of it, mashed like a contracted accordion, but he quickly reminded himself that Ratchet was a human now. That couldn’t be him.

But _that_ could! Jack gasped, scrambling forward on his hands and knees until he was inches away from the screen. An all-too-familiar man was lying on his stomach in the street, thrashing viciously while a police officer strapped handcuffs onto his wrists.

“No, no, no, no!” Jack hollered at the screen. “Ratchet, what did you do?!”

_“This man, aided by a boy accomplice, was seen hijacking an ambulance from the hospital garage! When police pinned the two down, the man said only that the boy accompanying him was, in truth, a hostage and needed to be taken to his family.”_

Jack pressed his hands to his face, hardly believing what he was seeing and hearing.

_“And when the other driver threatened to sue for his damaged truck, the ambulance hijacker began screaming in a language we’ve found untranslatable. He and the boy were taken into custody moments later.”_

“Oh, and you got Raf arrested too!” Jack cried. “That’s just the thing to do!” Fishing out his cellphone, Jack punched in his mom’s speed dial. “Pick up, pick up, Mom...”

“Jack? Didn’t I tell you to call me at work only when it was an emergency?” Mom hissed into the speaker.

“It _is_ an emergency!” Jack bellowed. “Ratchet and Raf—they crashed an ambulance and got arrested!”

There was a long silence on the other end and then Jack jerked back when he heard the dial tone. “Mom? Hello?! Hey!” Jack leaned back on his heels, swallowing hard as the news played on. He felt very, very afraid, mostly for Ratchet. Whenever Mom simply hung up on him, it meant death and destruction raining down in next to no time.

When his mom’s car screeched into the driveway, Jack knew to get in without question. The police station was a few miles away, but it seemed to go by in hardly a minute. June’s face was hard as she slammed the car door and stormed into the station. Jack was hard-pressed to keep up.

“I’ve come to post bail for my brother,” June announced to the man at the front desk. “Ferris Darby. I want him released to my care.”

Jack marveled at how calm she was compared to the way she had been on the drive over.

The police officer leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “Ma’am, your brother hijacked—”

“An ambulance, yes,” June finished. “But he needs me.”

“He also resisted arrest by assaulting four police officers.” The officer was looking increasingly more incredulous. “They had to Taser him just to put on his handcuffs.”

“He’s...off his medicine,” June protested. “He probably doesn’t even know what he did!”

“Is that why he was in the hospital?” the police officer asked.

“Well, no. He had a head injury yesterday,” June admitted.

“Then it would probably be best to admit him to a mental health institute, ma’am, at least until some a CT test can be run.”

“The tests were already run at the hospital,” June argued. “His mind is fine. At least, when he’s on the right meds. Please, he needs to be taken home and I promise he will make it to court.”

Jack swallowed hard at the officer’s silence, but at last the man acquiesced and began the bail process. At that moment, Jack heard a familiar voice shouting in Spanish.

“My _niño_ , my boy! Where is he?!”

Whirling, Jack saw a woman charging thunderously through the door. “Uh-oh,” Jack gulped, nudging his mom. “Mrs. Esquivel is here!”

That was all the warning that could be given before the furious Spanish woman seized Mrs. Darby, shaking her angrily. “What sort of criminals are you letting Rafael affiliate with?! What secrets are you hiding, lady?!”

“Get off of me!” June commanded, pushing her away and immediately receiving reciprocation. The desk officer leapt to his feet and Jack bounded behind him where he was safe from the catfight erupting.

“Ladies, calm yourselves or I’ll have to take you into custody also!” the officer shouted above the ruckus they were making.

“And that wouldn’t help anything!” Mrs. Darby declared her agreement even as she pushed against the officer’s arm, trying to get at Mrs. Esquivel. “I don’t let your son affiliate with criminals!”

“Then why is he here?!”

“It was all a misunderstanding!” Jack tried to explain. Mrs. Esquivel’s wrathful eye was turned on him and he cringed. “See, the man he was with, he’s a—relative. My mom’s brother. My uncle, that’s it. And he’s visiting.” Jack fidgeted from one foot to the other, mumbling something about Ratchet being off his meds and hoping Raf’s mother understood him.

“Well, you’d better get your brother under control, June!” Mrs. Esquivel declared heatedly. “Or my son will no longer have anything to do with yours!”

Jack was indignant. “I didn’t have anything to do with Ratchet’s actions!”

“Ratchet?” the officer repeated. “You said his name was Ferris.”

Jack was perplexed. “Ferris? What do you—?”

“Ratchet is his nickname,” June put in quickly, making a very quick motion across her throat telling Jack to go along with it.

“Yep, that’s him,” Jack forced himself to agree. “Uncle Ratchet. Ferris. Darby. Heh.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Mrs. Esquivel said sharply.

“Because he’s from out of town,” Jack repeated. “He’s visiting.”

“And we’re posting bail for him, officer, so please get him out,” June pleaded. “We need to take him home. He’s probably hungry and thirsty and terrified of this place and I won’t let him stay in it one more minute!”

Jack nodded vigorously and the officer sighed. “Alright, I’ll bring him out as soon as I can.”


	12. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 12: "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" by Daft Punk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry Ratchet is FURIOUS.

Ratchet tugged fruitlessly at the devices holding him to a table, muttering furiously.

“How dare they imprison me?! Dirtying my fingers with that black cushion and chaining me up like this. If Optimus were here, I swear—”

A uniformed man entered at that moment and Ratchet tried to lunge to his feet, but his ankles were chained to the chair, so he settled for bellowing at him.

“You’d better release me this instant or I promise you’ll regret what comes afterward.”

“Sir, I need to ask you a couple of questions,” the man answered in a voice so tranquil that the rest of Ratchet’s threat faded back into his mind.

“Why did you steal the ambulance?”

“As if I’m going to answer a retro-rat!” Ratchet snarled.

“How did you employ the kid?”

“He wasn’t employed by me! He was a hostage!” Ratchet thrashed once more, not caring about his burning side where they had Tasered him. “Let him go!”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

Ratchet was finally learning to recognize human sarcasm. “If you don’t let him go, you can go jump in a smelting pit!”

Sighing deeply, the officer slid a picture across the tabletop for him to see. “That’s the ambulance you stole,” he explained.

“ _I’m_ not the ignorant one, groundpounder!”

“Okay, so if I’m ignorant, you ought to enlighten me. Why did you steal it?”

Ratchet had been saving the worst one for last, so he leaned as far as he could across the table and spat, “Go reformat yourself with a lubricant-leaking lug wrench, you tricursed spawn of Unicron!”

Where any Cybertronian would have undoubtedly shot him in the face for such an oath, the man simply blinked placidly.

“Just tell me what I need to know and then I’ll go do that.”

Ratchet threw himself back into his chair and gave the man his most venomous glare. “Alright, I’ll tell you what you need to know,” he announced, slipping effortlessly into the Cybertronian Tongue. **::When I return to my true Autobot form, I’m going to come back here and tell you in great detail exactly how I stole that ambulance and exactly how it was crushed. Then I’ll do the same to you.::** He knew the bit-brain across from him couldn’t understand the words, but it was still satisfying to say them in his home language.

The officer sighed and shook his head. “Sir—”

The door opened and another officer came in. “Bail’s been posted for this guy,” he declared. “He’s off his meds, so he’s being released to his sister’s care.”

Ratchet gaped at him. “Off my meds?!” he screeched. “You think I’m off my meds?! Cybertron below me, where did you get that idea?! What meds?!”

“He must need them pretty bad if he’s talking like this,” the interrogation officer remarked as he unchained Ratchet’s ankles and began escorting him out.

“You’re going to let me go?” Ratchet asked, utterly confused by the sudden change.

“Yeah, that’s right,” was the reluctant reply. “You go home and take your meds, alright?”

“Psh, you must think I’m some kind of ill sparkling,” Ratchet huffed, “when actually I’m the doctor!”

“Sure, you can watch Doctor Who when you get there too,” one of the officers assured him.

“What?” Ratchet didn’t understand, but he knew they were baby-talking to him. “You shut your manifold mouth or I’ll shut it for you!”

“Ratchet!” Jack cried, instantly halting his tirade.

“Jack?” Ratchet sputtered. “Why are you here? Did they take you too?”

“No, we’re getting you out,” June explained. Ratchet’s attention was diverted from her, however, to two of the uniformed women.

“Look at the prints I got off this guy,” one of them was exclaiming. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

The other leaned over the file being shown to her. “They almost look like... _runes_.”

Ratchet struggled against the officers holding him and managed to catch a glimpse. “That’s Cybertronian!” he cried ecstatically.

“Sure, man,” one of his officers sighed. “Go to your sister and your nephew.”

Ratchet headed for June and Jack, grinning broadly at them. “Thank you. Look, look!” Joyfully he held out his hands. “I have Cybertronian on my hands!”

“Um, that’s great, Uncle Ratchet,” Jack said nervously. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they exited the building, Ratchet had a peculiar sense that June and Jack weren’t as pleased to see him as he was to see them. When he asked what was wrong, June simply yanked the passenger door open on her car and ordered that he get in. Uneasily Ratchet obeyed, buckling his seatbelt.

“But what about Raf?” he asked worriedly, remembering that the boy had gotten taken with him. “Where is he?”

“His mother’s handling it,” Jack reassured him as he got into the back.

“Ratchet, what were you thinking?!” June interrupted their conversation as she got into the driver’s seat. “What demon possessed you and made you steal an ambulance?!”

“Nobody would drive me and Raf away from the hospital willingly!” Ratchet protested. “So I took a vehicle of my own and drove out!”

“But you crashed it and you resisted arrest and assaulted four police officers!”

“They assaulted me first,” Ratchet grumbled, crossing his arms irritably. “It was self-defense.”

“And I had to post bail for you!” June lamented. “That’s five-thousand dollars, Ratchet, wasted! I never thought I would have to negotiate with a bail-bondsman in my life, but of course, on your third day as a human you just had to go and steal a car! And try to drive it with a _broken arm_! Unbelievable!”

As June went on and on about things Ratchet didn’t know and didn’t really want to know, he settled into the passenger seat, realizing just how exhausted he was by the whole experience. He’d not used insults such as those for a long, long time. He had to laugh when he looked back on it, but he made sure it was quiet enough that June didn’t notice his amusement.

When they reached the Darby house, Miko was waiting for them.

“Dude! I saw it on the news! You got hauled in by the cops, man!” she cried gleefully. “What was it like?!”

Ratchet smiled slightly at her, glad to find someone who wasn’t mad at him. “Once I’m able to force some food down my throat, Miko, I’ll tell you everything.”


	13. *June*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 13: "Sorrow" by Flyleaf.

June watched incredulously as Ratchet narrated his experience in the jail to Miko, who sat openmouthed, drinking it all in eagerly.

“So I told him, ‘Go reformat yourself with a lubricant-leaking lug wrench, you tricursed spawn of Unicron!’” Ratchet declared, making June flinch at the enraged tone he was demonstrating.

Miko whooped with laughter, hugging her sides. “You’ve got real guts, man,” she gasped. “Real _guts_! What’d he say?!”

Ratchet rolled his eyes. “He was completely clueless and didn’t understand a word I said.” He paused in thought. “Miko, you of all people probably know the answer to this, so...what’s _Doctor Who_?”

Miko lifted her head. “What?”

“Doctor Who,” Ratchet repeated. “I told one of them that I was the doctor and they said I could go watch ‘Doctor Who’.”

June spoke up. “It’s a television show. Some of the old episodes are on Netflix if you want to watch them.” Anything to keep him on the couch for a little while...

“Yeah, let’s do it!” Miko exclaimed, seizing up the remote and turning on the TV. “You’re gonna love this, doc! Most people like Ten and Eleven, but I thought Nine and Six were the best! They were both just like, ‘Yeaaah, we’re Time Lords—deal with it!’”

Ratchet held up a hand. “Wait, Miko. We should watch the episode June wants.”

June was surprised by this. “Why would you want to—?”

“An apology for your having to come and fetch me,” Ratchet explained, grinning sheepishly.

“Well, I...I don’t care what episode you watch,” June objected. “I’ve got work to do.”

Ratchet’s smile faded. “Oh. Okay.”

June turned away, listening to Ratchet even as she wandered off.

“It’s rather strange, Miko, how everything seems to reference television!”

“I know, right?” the girl agreed. “That guy who was grilling you, he totally sounds like Agent Cho on _The Mentalist_!”

“Who?”

“Exactly! Doctor Who!” Miko laughed hysterically and Ratchet simply muttered something under his breath.

As she sank down at the kitchen table, June rubbed the bridge of her nose, realizing she had barely stopped to take a breath since the Autobot had come to her house.

 _He’s needed me_ , she reminded herself. _I don’t regret taking him in. Do I?_

“I regret having to pay his bail,” she muttered. “Really, what was he thinking?”

_He was scared. He wanted to leave and you weren’t there to take him. He’s your responsibility and you can’t just abandon him like that!_

_But I can’t abandon my work! How would it look if I were to just leave one hospital to go to the other?_

That reminded her. Standing wearily, June shrugged her coat back on and grabbed her keys. “I’m going back to work,” she told Ratchet and Miko. “I’ll see you later. Um, Miko, you handle dinner.”

Miko grunted distractedly and waved her away. Ratchet just ignored her completely. Knowing she wouldn’t get any better response, June left.

As she drove back toward her work, June knew she needed to sort out her thoughts and feelings about Ratchet. She couldn’t explain it, but every time she looked at him, she gained a bit more strength.

Maybe that was why she had called him ‘Ferris’, June mused. The name meant ‘the one as strong as iron’. Somehow, when he had been transformed, Ratchet’s strength had passed to her. Now she was doing everything in her power to give it back to him, but he seemed to gain the most from the kids.

 _Because he barely knows me_ , June thought sadly. The only times she had come was to see Jack and Optimus or when the situation had become dire. In fact, she could barely remember any word she’d said to the Autobot Ratchet outside of a polite greeting.

Now, despite everything he’d done, all the mistakes he’d made, June was still willing to forgive him. Even Jack would have, by now, at least gotten some kind of punishment.

 _But how can you punish someone who doesn’t know what’s good and bad on Earth?_ That was the question that left June feeling small and helpless. Sooner or later Ratchet was going to do something, just out of curiosity, and then someone would get hurt. And _she_ would be left picking up the pieces while Ratchet hovered over her shoulder, his long braid bumping her back while he tried to tell her how sorry he was.

It was...pathetically heartwarming. June couldn’t find any other description and she hated to admit that most of her strength came from those times when he leaned on her most. That’s how it was with most of the patients she dealt with—the worse their condition, the more strength she had. But with Ratchet, it was more than usual.

In a way—

 _No. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again!_ June warned herself fiercely. _You can’t love people who are weaker than you!_

_But he’s stronger, much stronger than the others, even if he doesn’t know it—and he’s giving me strength even when he screws up._

_But it’s not supposed to be this way. A nurse shouldn’t be biased for one patient. Then again, I suppose we all were biased for Ratchet long before he became a patient. He’s part of the family._

_Which is exactly why you_ can’t _love him like that._

_But he’s everything the previous Mr. Darby wasn’t. He’s everything I want._

_But you’re not what he wants._

_Love has to be mutual, doesn’t it? If you voiced your feelings, he would feel enslaved, unwilling to break your heart even though it would break his. It would be taking advantage of his bond with the kids and his innocence and his hurt and making it suit your own wants._

_All_ he _wants is to be an Autobot again. He needs that more than he needs a woman’s feelings. They’d only be a burden to him and think about the last few days! Think about everything you’ve seen! Those with burdens feel the need to distract themselves. It would just be putting him and everyone else in more danger._

 _Don’t do it. Don’t you dare. Love him by keeping him safe_.

June parked in the hospital lot and rested her head against the steering wheel. When she heard a tapping on the window, she jumped and grabbed her things, practically hurling herself out of the car.

“Wow,” her coworker commented. “Where’s the emergency?”

“Sorry, Andrew,” June laughed. “You startled me.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking about some trouble I’m having at home. Family trouble that I don’t quite know how to solve.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do,” Andrew offered.

June smiled wanly. “Sure.” _If only you knew_...


	14. *Ratchet*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 14: "Cast No Shadow" by Oasis.

Ratchet watched with anticipation as the episode neared its end. “Wait, what?!” he gasped. “Rose _refused_?! But now the Doctor’s leaving!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Miko shushed him. “The episode’s not over yet!”

As the whooshing blue box disappeared, Ratchet’s heart sank. What an opportunity and Rose Tyler had just thrown it away...

“He’s coming back!” Ratchet cheered, hopping up and down on the couch with glee. “And she’s going with him! _Thank Primus!_ ”

“You really get into these, don’t you?” Miko giggled.

As the credits rolled, Ratchet’s grin faded into a troubled frown. What Miko said was true...but was that good or bad? Was he forgetting who he was for the advantages of being a human? Standing abruptly, he stepped over Miko and headed for the guest bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Miko asked, surprised. “I was going to put on the next one.”

“In a little bit, Miko. I have to...rest.” Once his back was pressed against the inside of the bedroom door, Ratchet sank down onto the floor.

He needed to get back to his lab and do his energon tests. He needed to become an Autobot again before he got too comfortable. But until then...

Growling, he tried pulling at the cast on his left arm, but it did little good. Ratchet stood and walked to the window to look about, but he found his view blocked by some kind of...shade. Noticing a rope dangling nearby, Ratchet yanked on it and startled when the shade launched up. The sudden movements made him drop the rope and, in turn, the shade plummeted back down, ending up in a tangled mass.

“Oh, dear,” he murmured anxiously. “I think they needed that.” Hesitantly he nudged it aside so he could peer out onto the street.

Was he imagining—? No, there it was: an ambulance squealing down the street, sirens wailing mournfully. Ratchet felt something fall into his stomach and he, much like the mangled shade, fell also.

His knees ached when he landed on them, but he didn’t care. All he could feel was the memory of the breeze rushing past his windshield, the warm gravel against his tires, his sirens howling much like those that had just passed. But it had been joy which made him call out in vehicle form. Now all he had left was the blood, the Tongue, and his fingerprints.

Ratchet lifted his fingers, studying them closely. The rune-prints spelled out his name in Cybertronian, but they made him wonder. Was he so worthless that his identity could be spelled out on human fingers?

Before he could think that through, the window behind him shattered, raining glass down on him. Yelping, he flattened himself on the ground as another shot passed over his head.

“Ratchet!” Miko howled from the other room as other explosions sounded and the house shook on its roots.

Ratchet leapt to his feet, trying futilely to transform his hands into blades. When that failed, he bolted down the hall, not knowing what he would do but praying that whatever it was, it would work.

When he saw the front wall smoking in crumbled heaps and a purple car roaring away from the curb, Ratchet knew. A rogue Vehicon—with Miko in the back.

He’d never felt such adrenaline in human form, Ratchet thought as he bolted after the Con. It was probably because he knew exactly what Bulkhead would do to him if he lost Miko to one of these rarely-appearing, scarcely-numbered Cybertronians.

The chase went far beyond Jack’s street, even beyond the place where they were still cleaning up the ambulance Ratchet had stolen. He barely gave it a glance as he ran, solely focused on his target. Surprisingly, his panic was fueling him, helping him process.

_What could the Con want? Energon? But Miko can’t give that to them. They probably want to use her for leverage...because they know an Autobot stayed on Earth. But how could they know that? Maybe they’ve been spying on Agent Fowler. They likely know he’s involved._

Ratchet very nearly smashed into the Con’s rear bumper as it screeched to a stop in a secluded alley. _Wonderful_ , Ratchet thought. _Just the place to kill two humans and not be seen_. Ratchet’s eyes followed the Vehicon’s movement as it transformed and the medic realized for the first time how large Cybertronians were compared to humans.

“The Autobot medic! Where are you hiding him?!” the Con bellowed, squeezing Miko in one hand. “Tell me or she dies!”

“Don’t tell him!” Miko bellowed, kicking at the claws that gripped her.

Ratchet gaped wordlessly at them, his thoughts racing so fast that he barely knew he was thinking. He probably wasn’t, he realized hazily as he lifted an hand and tapped the Autobot symbol on his coat.

“You can’t be him,” the Cybertronian sneered. “Conscience passes almost never work!”

“Believe me, I didn’t mean to do it,” Ratchet assured him. “It was an accident. Please, let me take care of the girl and then we can talk.”

“You’ll bolt.”

“I won’t! I swear—by the Allspark!” Ratchet begged. A flash of surprise crossed the Vehicon’s face, but doubt was there also, so Ratchet cried out in Cybertronian. **::Put the girl down! For Primus’ sake, I’m the Autobot medic!::**

The Vehicon cocked his head mockingly but spoke in the same Tongue. **::Alright, then, I believe you. I’m putting her down.::**

Miko screamed as she was suddenly dropped, somersaulting across the ground. Ratchet dove toward her limp form but the Vehicon snatched him up midway.

“You filthy knock-off!” Ratchet groaned as the claws pressed in on his ribs, making it hard to breathe. “I thought I was allowed to take care of her,” he panted. “I promise again not to run! By...by the Chaos-Bringer!”

An oath such as that could be taken seriously. “Very well,” the Con consented. “But I will watch you closely.”

His bones rattled warningly as he hit the ground, but Ratchet immediately forced himself to his feet and went to Miko. Struggling to pick her up with one arm, Ratchet dragged her over to some trash bags, the only soft place around, and laid her down.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over a cut on her cheek.

“Come back to me now. You swore on the Allspark,” the Vehicon reminded him grimly.

“Listen to me,” Ratchet barked, standing and doubling his fists. “You _said_ you would let me _care_ for her. That’s what I’m doing!”

“And now I say you’re finished,” the Vehicon ordered, reaching down. Despite his binding vows, Ratchet felt an intense urge to run which he quickly squashed. Endangering everyone else wasn’t an option.

“What do you want with me?” Ratchet demanded as the claws locked around his waist.

“I want your energon,” the Vehicon answered simply. “I’m running low.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Ratchet said through gritted teeth, “I’m a human. Humans don’t have energon in their bodies.”

“I’ll have fun finding out by my own methods,” was the sinister response. As he was carried helplessly off, Ratchet was plagued by an odd but disturbing thought:

 _Being a Doctor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be_.


	15. *Miko*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 15: "Memories" by Within Temptation.

Miko woke with a pained gasp and didn’t recognize her surroundings. What was that horrible smell?

She looked over her shoulder and down and saw the source. Trash bags? She was in an alley. But why?

A wave of memory struck and she struggled to her feet, staring around wildly. No one was in sight. “Ratchet!” she hollered frantically. There was no response, but Miko hadn’t been expecting one. Yanking her cellphone out of her pocket with shaking hands, she dialed the first number that popped into her head.

“Special Agent William Fowl—”

“It’s Miko! There was this Con that came to the Darby’s and it got me and then it got Ratchet!”

“Are you hurt?!”

“No, I’m alright, but Ratchet’s gone! _Shanghaied!_ ” Miko ran a hand through her hair and winced when she felt a swollen lump. “I—I got knocked out and I don’t know where he is! Fowler, you have to find him!”

“Where are you?” Fowler demanded.

“Some alley, I don’t know!” Keeping the phone to her ear, Miko sprinted out onto the sidewalk. “The alley off Anderson Road.”

“I’m on my way,” Fowler declared as he hung up.

Miko ran back and forth at the edge of the alley in a hyped-up version of pacing. Every second wasted made it more likely that the Vehicon had found that the humanized medic couldn’t be used for whatever he wanted and killed him.

Agent Fowler’s car appeared in front of her after what seemed like years. Miko leapt into the passenger seat, shouting, “What, did you stop for drive-thru?!”

“Actually, yes,” Fowler snapped. Jack waved a hand and Miko relaxed just a little bit. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

“We were just watching TV and then Ratchet got kinda down. He went into his room and then the next thing I know this Con comes smashing through the front door!” Miko recounted hurriedly. “He grabbed me and took off, but Ratchet chased him into this alley and then they started talking gibberish to each other—I think it was Bot language or something. A little bit later I woke up and called you.”

“Didn’t you get a picture of the Con or something?” Jack asked.

“They all look the same!” Miko wailed. “Big and purple and evil!”

“Well, it’s not like we can put out a BOLO on a Decepticon!” Agent Fowler protested as he swung a U-turn and drove back the way he’d come. “That would blow away all the secrecy we’ve worked for!”

“But we have to do something! We can’t let Ratchet...” Miko didn’t want to say the word, but it was heavily implied in the ominous silence that followed.

“Don’t worry, Miko. If anyone can figure out a plan, it’s my mom and Agent Fowler,” Jack said with forced conviction.

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Fowler muttered. He gestured to the mess in the intersection they were approaching. “What happened here?”

Miko couldn’t help but laugh weakly. “Ratchet happened here. He escaped the hospital. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“Just this afternoon my mom and I posted bail for him,” Jack agreed.

Fowler chuckled. “Well, when we get him back home, he’ll have to tell me all about it.”

Miko swallowed hard. Fowler sounded so confident that they would get Ratchet back. She wanted to believe him, just because the other option was so unbearable. Ratchet might have driven her crazy ever since she’d known him, but he was one of the first Bots she’d met. Because of that, he held a special place in her heart; each of the First Five did.

As they parked in front of the Darby house, Miko grimaced. Mrs. Darby was standing with her back to them, standing in front of the chaos once called the front door

“I can’t believe how many miles I’ve used on my car today,” June sighed as Miko, Jack, and Fowler bounded out to stand beside her.

“Never mind that!” Miko retorted, waving her arms around like she didn’t know what to do with herself. “Did Agent Fowler tell you what happened?!”

“Yes.”

Miko ogled at her. “Why are you so calm?!”

June turned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Because panicking won’t help Ratchet, will it?”

Miko spluttered a few useless syllables before mumbling, “I guess not.”

“Alright, then. Now c’mon, let’s go inside and try to think this through,” June urged, leading the way. Warily they stepped through the debris and went into the kitchen, sitting around the table.

After Miko reiterated her experience, June asked, “Why would the Vehicon want Ratchet?”

“Any number of reasons,” Miko informed her. “Revenge, energon, leverage, or maybe just because he’s a Decepticon.”

“So we don’t know the reason. Do we know how to track Ratchet?” June tried.

“Well, if he were still an Autobot, the computer in our base could track him,” Miko sighed. “But he’s _not_ an Autobot anymore and he’s also the only one who could work that tech!”

“What about Raf?” June suggested. “He’s definitely smart enough. But once we found Ratchet, how could we get him out alive?”

“I could send in my people,” Agent Fowler offered.

“They’re no match for a Vehicon!” Miko complained. At Agent Fowler’s glare, she threw her arms wide. “What?! You know it’s true. That Con could just shoot Ratchet and then squash the rest! Our heaviest weapons can leave the bots with only a few scratches on the other side! Humans are just too small to take them on!”

“But it’s not like Ratchet can save himself,” June said sadly. “He’s a human now too.”

Jack had remained quiet until this moment. “You’re right,” he said to Miko. “Humans are too small.”

His tone caught the adults’ attention. “What are you thinking, son?” Fowler questioned.

“I’m thinking...” Jack said slowly, his face filling with determination, “I’m thinking we should call Optimus.”


	16. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 16: "Not Gonna Die" by Skillet.
> 
>  
> 
> **Trigger Warning: Torture/Pain Play ******

Ratchet was immediately on high alert as he rolled out of the Vehicon’s hand onto the ground. “So—” He coughed, trying to refill his lungs. “What’s your designation, Vehicon?”

“Vehicon #115.”

Pulling himself back into a standing position, Ratchet studied the warehouse that enclosed him, memorizing its schematics and hiding places. “You’ve hidden here?”

“Sure,” 115 answered with a shrug. “It’s nice and cozy, just like that house you were hiding in.”

“But a warehouse,” Ratchet repeated. “You’ve been cooped up in here like some kind of recycled scrapheap tool—” He grunted in pain as one of 115’s claws smacked him across the floor into some crates. “Alright, alright, so you’ve been undercover,” he wheezed, unable to recover before the next blow that came from down low and put him on his back. He immediately lifted his arms to cover his chest. It was natural for him to protect his spark, keep it intact so the other Autobots could track him.

But he didn’t _have_ a spark!

“Down to business,” 115 announced. “I’m going to make you bleed all your energon to me, but I’m going to have fun doing it.”

Ratchet rolled swiftly to his right, dodging the next claw swipe and crawling toward some piles of unused machinery he could use as cover.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” 115 rebuked him sternly, seizing his leg and hoisting him into the air. Ratchet yelped as the world was turned upside-down, but he didn’t risk kicking lest he fall right on his head.

“I’m not going to let you run, at least not yet,” the Vehicon told him as he pulled some cables down from a light in the ceiling and wrapped them around Ratchet’s arms.

 **::Frell!::** the medic howled in agony as his broken arm was twisted the wrong way.

“Ooh, that’s not a nice thing to say,” 115 scolded jeeringly. “I’m going to have to punish you for that one. I learned many methods of torture from my mentor.”

Ratchet didn’t like the sound of that—nor the sound the bones in his arm were making. “Men...Mentor?” he gasped out, trying to breathe but finding a weight pressing on his chest because his arms were stretched above his head.

“Shockwave.”

Ratchet couldn’t help it—he started trembling at the name. “But you were one of the slave class,” he protested nervously. “How could you have learned from Shockwave?”

“Well, I read all of his instructional files and organized his tools,” 115 clarified. “It’s a good thing too, because I’ve been able to make my own in my spare time.”

Ratchet watched, his eyes widening in horror, as the Con retrieved a tool case from nearby. Trying to stall for time, Ratchet burst out, “Spare time? What do you do most of the time?”

“Most of the time I spy on you and your human allies.”

Ratchet kicked his feet, hoping some invisible platform would levitate him and alleviate the pressure on his arms. “You...must have...assets,” he panted. “Someone on the inside?”

“Oh, yes.” 115 chuckled as he pulled out an electric prod and examined it closely. “If only your humans knew! It’s someone they would never expect. At first, I didn’t expect it either: a human willing to betray their own race.”

“B-but you’re not going to take over the human race by yourself!” Ratchet protested. “Megatron is dead and Starscream and Shockwave are gone.”

“So are the Autobots,” 115 reminded him. “I would say ‘ _other_ Autobots’, but you’re not exactly one of them anymore, are you?”

Ratchet froze. “I...I am an Autobot,” he said in a whisper. “I wear the symbol. My loyalties lie with them and always will.”

“I can make a compromise for ‘Autohuman’,” 115 allowed. “Now—”

Ratchet screamed as the electric prod jabbed into his chest and sent waves of electricity coursing through his body. When it paused, however, he lifted his head and laughed in 115’s face.

“Ah, by the Celestial Spires,” he breathed. “That felt _amazing_. A charge or two is just what I need!”

The charge of the prod whined and Ratchet wailed again. “There’s the second one!” His entire form was left quivering, sending waves up the cables holding him.

“Feels rather bittersweet, doesn’t it?” 115 agreed. He didn’t sound angry when he said it; in truth, his voice was almost congenial.

“Yes.” Ratchet couldn’t help but grin, but one of the Con’s fingers struck him brutally in the face and knocked him into a daze.

“All I have to do is flick you and you bleed?” 115 muttered disappointedly. “I expected better from someone who survived the war.” His voice faded in and out of Ratchet’s ears as he struggled to see straight. “Well,” 115 added grimly, lifting Ratchet’s chin to see the blood trailing from his nose. “That isn’t energon.”

“Told you,” Ratchet mumbled, spitting the tangy substance as it leaked into his mouth. “You’ll—pft—you have no reason to hold me now. I can’t give you fuel.”

“No, but you can give me entertainment,” 115 mused. “And you will.”

As he shook his head back into clarity, Ratchet noticed the welder in the Con’s claw.

“Being a medic, you no doubt use this for repair,” 115 remarked. “But when used on the softer metal on a Cybertronian, it can leave quite a mark. You don’t exactly have any metal on you, but flesh will do nicely. I’ll have to be careful, though—don’t want to roast you away.”

Ratchet cringed, drawing his knees up to his chest in a futile attempt to shield himself.

“You volunteering those limbs first? Very well,” 115 said gleefully, turning the welder on.

The delicate blue flame hissed as it drew just close enough to burn away the knees of Ratchet’s trousers and singe the top layer of skin. Ratchet couldn’t repress a whimper. Encouraged, the Vehicon leaned in, playfully swiping the flame across his knees and creating a fresh layer of burns.

His sleeves were peeled back next, as well as the cast holding Ratchet’s bones in place. He howled as the fragments shifted, kicking vigorously in an attempt to support himself and uncaring that his shin burns protested against the motion. The insides of his elbows sang torment at the heat so intense that his voice cut out in the middle of his next cry.

“Now, little one, I’m going to give you two options,” 115 declared.

Ratchet gasped as he was released from the cables and dumped on the ground. He landed heavily on his scorched knees and let a sob escape him at the agony of it. Two large fingers gripped the back of his coat and hoisted him onto trembling legs.

The only warning he received was three words:

“Run or die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, from here on out the story will be all Optimus and Ratchet's points of view, with a few human POVs thrown in occasionally.


	17. *Optimus*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 17: "Everything Goes Black" by Skillet.

Optimus was having a taxing day. Bulkhead had uncovered another entrance to a family quarters and Optimus had been overwhelmed by grief and nostalgia, for this had been his home as Orion Pax.

Despite the fact that Cybertron was their shared home planet, none of the others with him had been able to understand his anguish. His creators had been killed so unexpectedly, there were still signs of what they had been doing before the attack. His Sire’s reading pad was lying on the remnants of a broken chair and the switch of his Carrier’s prized orb lamp was halfway to lighting—with _a hand_ still dangling on the end of it.

It was one of the first times he had simply run from the memories, bolting out of the quarters and into the temporary ones he and the others shared. Now he sat in front of the communications system, wondering if he had a right to use it when the energy it consumed was so precious.

He needed to confide in someone who would understand and sympathize. Of course, there was always Ultra Magnus, but he was under his command. The one Optimus had always found it hard to control—and admired and loved because of that fact—was still on Earth.

Therefore, Optimus leaned forward to make the call, but a hailing beep stopped his movement. Ratchet was calling first! Optimus couldn’t help but smile gratefully. Even though they were galaxies apart, his friend had sensed he needed comfort.

“Hello, old friend,” Optimus greeted warmly as he opened the line.

“Optimus, is that you?!” Raf gasped. “I can’t believe this got through!”

Surprise and disappointment struck so deep that Optimus could feel his EM field flicker. Clearing his throat, Optimus hoped the emotions didn’t show in his voice when he said, “Hello, Rafael. This is you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” the boy acknowledged breathlessly. “Me, Jack, Miko, Mrs. Darby, and Agent Fowler.”

Optimus was puzzled by the clear absence of the name he’d been waiting for. “Where is Ratchet? I’d like to speak with him.”

“That’s actually why we’re calling you,” Jack admitted. “Um...something’s happened.”

The boy’s audible uneasiness reached out to Optimus, curling around his spark. “Go on,” he urged anyway.

Jack hesitated. “Well...uh...”

Miko spoke up, unnaturally timid. “He’s been taken.”

Optimus’s optics widened. “What?”

“It was a rogue Vehicon,” Miko sped on. “It tried to grab me but Ratchet convinced it to make a trade...At least, that’s what I gathered from the baloney they were talking before the Con dropped me.”

“Cybertronian,” Optimus muttered. But why would Ratchet use their home Tongue? Perhaps he had been saying something he hadn’t wanted Miko to hear...

“Yeah, that must have been it,” Miko agreed quickly. “But now he’s gone.”

“Can’t you track his signal with this same computer?” Optimus demanded.

Raf cleared his throat nervously. “That’s...that’s the problem, Optimus. Ratchet is _human_.”

Optimus’s jaw literally dropped. “But that’s impossible,” he gasped, so shaken that he stumbled over the last word. “How can that be?!”

“He was testing synth-en,” Raf explained quickly, drawing shocked gasps and questions from the others, but he waved them off. “Quiet, all of you! He told me. And he said his body was probably rejecting it after what happened the first time. But now that this Con has him, now that he’s in a human body...Optimus...”

“He has no way to defend himself. He could be killed,” Agent Fowler stated unnecessarily. Optimus knew exactly what a conscience pass meant.

“We need your help,” Mrs. Darby concluded. “We need to you rescue him.”

“As if it needed to be asked,” Optimus scoffed in trepidation under his breath before taking on a sterner tone. “Send a space bridge immediately.”

“On its way,” Raf informed him. Optimus acknowledged and signed off the comlink, taking a moment to run his hands over his face-plates and process the situation.

Why was this war so _endless_? His stressful day couldn’t just wind down; it _had_ to escalate like this.

“Optimus?” Ultra Magnus said, peering in from the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

Ex-venting slowly, Optimus stood and turned to face his commander. “I’m going to Earth. Ratchet’s been abducted by a Decepticon and I’m to rescue him.”

“I should go with you—!” Magnus started to say. Optimus had been expecting it, so he cut him off.

“No, you are needed here. Construction must continue, even in my absence. I’m leaving you in charge.”

“If you think that’s wise,” Ultra Magnus consented, never one to counter a direct order.

Optimus nodded, grateful for his friend’s understanding. “I might be gone a few solar cycles,” he announced. “Perhaps a week.”

“Understood.”

When the space bridge appeared, his team gave it curious and concerned glances. Optimus knew he didn’t have time to explain, so he said simply, “I shall return soon.”

“Say hi to Miko for me,” Bulkhead called hesitantly.

Optimus nodded once and strode through. As he emerged on the other side, he was struck by the ominous silence in the base. The humans were standing on a platform near the computer, staring at him worriedly. Barely giving them a glance, for he knew what would happen if he looked at their grim expressions for too long, Optimus went to the computer and began searching for a Cybertronian life signal.

Raf knew what he was doing, but didn’t understand why. When he started to inquire, Optimus held up a finger, focused on the search progress.

“Ratchet may be human and therefore doesn’t have a signal,” he muttered just loud enough for the observers to hear. “But the Vehicon does.”

Miko slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, we are so stupid!”

“No,” Optimus assured her. “You just don’t have much experience with this computer. Usually Ratchet takes care of everything.” He noticed his shoulders drooping and quickly straightened. “Tell me, how long?”

“How long has he been human?” June checked her watch. “What do you know, two minutes after midnight. Today will be the fourth day.”

“He’s been trying very hard to get used to everything,” Miko said in a strange tone, as though remembering something only she and Ratchet knew about. “And, aside from a few...incidents, he’s been doing well.”

Optimus could hear the lie in the last sentence, but all he said was, “Let’s hope he still is.” And he did hope, but he doubted it.


	18. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 18: "Please Don't Let Me Go" by Group 1 Crew. 
> 
> **Trigger Warning: Torture/Pain Play (cont.) ******

Ratchet couldn’t tell when he was on the ground or tied to the ceiling anymore; he could barely breathe either way. _Torture, fleeing, agony, hiding, suffering, hunting, captured, recaptured, torture, fleeing..._

How many hours had it been? Too many, Ratchet realized as he curled into a tight ball on the floor.

“You look like one of those slithering reptiles,” 115 commented. “Snakes.”

“What, you mean your ancestors?” Ratchet snorted, laughing feebly as he managed to bring himself onto his bloody hands and knees.

“Says the one crawling on the floor.”

“Well, let me have a shot at you with that energy prod and...we’ll see how much you look like a snake,” Ratchet countered dazedly, unable to muster the ire he felt into his voice.

“No, we’re done with the prod. You’re probably too tired for that, eh? You’d give out too quickly,” 115 told him, delicately grasping his braid and hauling him up with it. Ratchet yelped, straining to stay on solid ground. The Vehicon was amused, holding him just high enough that his toes brushed the floor.

Before Ratchet knew what was happening, he was once again bound by the light cables. By now he would have expected to be accustomed to the crunching in his arm, but it was still just as excruciating as it had been the first, second, sixteenth, and seventeenth times.

“Tired, are you?” 115 asked again. Ratchet knew that if he confirmed it, something he wouldn’t appreciate would happen.

“No,” he ground out. “ _Relaxed_.”

“Oh, so this light won’t hurt you,” 115 laughed as he flashed it in the medic’s face. Ratchet winced at the sudden illumination, trying to turn away from it but finding nowhere to turn to. It was almost like he were being enveloped by a sun. Then he was brought back into darkness. When his eyes had almost adjusted, the light burst back on again, making his head spin.

“Turn it off!” he pleaded, but it came out as a squeak.

“Overstimulation of the senses,” 115 explained, obviously enjoying the fact that his prisoner already knew what he was doing. “What about sound? Do you enjoy music?”

“I always hated it in my classes at the Academy on Cybertron,” Ratchet said, hoping to delay the inevitable for but a few seconds.

“Me too,” 115 agreed. “The harps were always too soft. I never had the skill for them.”

Ratchet didn’t know if he enjoyed or hated the fact that his captor was so conversational—these human emotions were so conflicting and he was too exhausted to sort them out. “I was one of the best in the class. I just didn’t like them.”

“Well, this will be more—how did you put it? ‘Relaxing’?”

Whatever noise Ratchet released while bursting into tears was drowned out by the thunderous boom made by the Con’s sonic resonator. The sound waves lifted to a ringing screech, making him wonder faintly if his ears were bleeding. As soon as the reverberations faded, Ratchet moved to wipe his face but couldn’t reach with his hands tied. His body jerked with each sob, straining his surface wounds and making his muscles ache.

“You’re pitiful,” 115 muttered, almost sounding sympathetic.

Ratchet didn’t want his pity, so he heaved in a breath, trying to calm himself. No doubt his oxygen would be more rapidly depleted if he wept. He had to think of something calming...

_“I never meant to hurt anyone. I just wanted so badly to—”_

_“—help us. We know. But you nearly caused the loss of something irreplaceable: our medic, and a most trusted friend.”_

That should have comforted him, but in this instance it made the tears saltier, burning his eyes.

“Keep going,” he said in a low voice.

“What?” 115 asked in surprise.

“Go on!” Ratchet barked. “I _want_ the pain! Do your worst to me—I don’t give a flying frag!” 115 was staring at him like he was completely insane, but Ratchet kicked at him, goading him on. “What are you, a burnout? No, not now! Come on, you learned from the best! Show me what you’re made of, apprentice!”

115 glared at him but turned away, much to Ratchet’s despair. He needed the pain now; it was all he had left in this little warehouse. The thought of the humans, of Optimus, no longer comforted him; it shamed him. He had taken away the Ratchet they knew and cared for; he had _killed_ Ratchet with the synth-en experiments.

Sweat and tears mingling on his cheeks, Ratchet bowed his head, snuffling miserably and feeling like an infant for it. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would escape into the darkness of oblivion.

115’s light wrenched him out of his haze into clear and present pain. The Con laughed almost feverishly.

“You asked for it!”

For Ratchet it seemed only a moment before everything was happening at once—the flashing lights and high-low tolling and the scarring fire raining its wrath down on him. Then suddenly it would all cease and he could draw a single breath in the dark quiet before it restarted.

It was all too much. Ratchet didn’t know if he was screaming it or not, but he knew what his mind was crying. His thoughts consisted of a single phrase for so long that he almost believed 115 was thinking it too.

_Help me, Optimus!_

A section of the roof smashed in so suddenly that Ratchet turned his head away as though it were some form of violence. No, the violence came afterward—the blasts of a cannon and laser fire skittering across the floor below him. 115 was shouting something, but Ratchet’s head was too twisted by all the pain and chaos to translate it into a language. It was just another nerve-burning pain in his ears.

Who was shouting ‘Ratchet’ over and over? And to whom? That seemed like a name, but he wasn’t completely sure. Whoever was calling it sounded rather distressed and he felt bad for them. Wherever Ratchet was, he ought to answer his friend before he caused a panic.

There was a snapping sound above him and then he felt cool wind rushing past his ears. The world spun in slow-motion as he plummeted and he found it exhilarating, almost as though he were flying. If Optimus—yes, he was certain he knew someone called Optimus—had seen that, he would have been so jealous!

Then it was over and he landed in something seemingly shaped for him. A roof came overhead and he instantly felt safe enough to sleep.


	19. *Optimus*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I _really _got BFF feels while writing this one. O_O__
> 
> Soundtrack for Chapt. 19: "Broken Wings" by Flyleaf.

Only in this moment did Optimus curse the reprieve from battle he’d had on Cybertron. Just these past months of letup had made him rusty. His aim with his lasers was off by just a few inches, but the inches were there. The Vehicon was small and agile, able to squeeze into those inches and dodge his shots.

Close quarters, then. Optimus swung his foot out and landed a devastating kick to the Con’s chest, leaving a deep dent. The Vehicon transformed into his alt. mode, seeming to think that he could drive Optimus’ legs out from under him.

Perfect. Revving his jet engines thunderously to show the Vehicon just how dangerous he was, Optimus picked up the smaller bot and hurled him across the warehouse toward the wall. Transforming in the middle of the throw, the Con popped off a few shots while he was in the air. Optimus had the same idea, firing his cannon. The shot tore open the Con’s spark chamber and made his now-lifeless body twirl. His laser fire strayed far from Optimus—but right at Ratchet. It missed him by barely a centimeter, snapping one of the cables holding him up. The other might have been frayed already, but whatever the reason, it broke also.

Panicking, Optimus launched himself forward, skidding painfully across the floor but managing to catch the small body. Bringing himself onto his knees, Optimus stared in alarm down at the human cupped in his hands. He knew him. Despite all the burns and torn clothing and blood and awkward angles—limbs shouldn’t bend that way!—he _knew_ him.

“Ratchet,” Optimus whispered, not caring that his vocalizer was filled with static. “Ratchet...”

The medic’s pale blue eyes opened for barely a second, but it was enough for Optimus’ throat cables to feel as though they were knotted around each other in grief. He noticed the way Ratchet flinched at the light of his optics and turned them down quickly, repositioning one hand so it threw Ratchet’s face into shadow. He immediately relaxed, slipping into stasis—no, _unconsciousness_.

Trying to remember how to work his vents, Optimus opened the hatch to his spark chamber and cradled the little form of his friend close to it, hoping the warmth would do good for his unnaturally cold skin. The Prime didn’t know how long he knelt there, but it still didn’t seem long enough when he realized he ought to radio in.

“This is Optimus,” he said when he was able to collect himself. “I have Ratchet. Send a ground bridge. Nurse Darby, prepare for your patient.”

The ground bridge opened almost before the words were out of his mouth. Optimus hoped he strode through with confidence, but from the looks on the humans’ faces he’d probably failed.

Optimus gently placed Ratchet on the waiting medical bed and Mrs. Darby moved in, keeping her back to Optimus and purposely blocking both his and the children’s view of her work.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do but wait, Optimus announced, “I’m going for a drive. Call me if there’s any change in his condition.”

The children nodded solemnly and Optimus opened his mouth to give his usual spiel about strength and courage...but for some reason he didn’t have the spark. Closing his mouth wordlessly, he turned and roared out of the base.

It was rare for him to take drives anymore. His jetpack often got him places faster and, besides, an alt. mode of a tank was often conspicuous and could blow their cover if seen in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was only because it was so early in the morning that Optimus decided to chance it. Rumbling along the desert road, Optimus tried to sort out his emotions.

His creators’ remnants had been uncovered before his very optics. His best friend had been humanized, captured, and mutilated without mercy. He had been helpless to stop either occurrence from happening. Right now, though, what Optimus hated the most was that he was almost longing for more battle, because that was the only time he felt a purpose.

Speeding up in his anger at himself, Optimus tore down the road, his tires screeching as he rounded the corner, lost control of himself and smashed into a tree. His entire system roaring, he flattened the tree beneath his weight and forged on, knocking down another tree and another and another, hoping the devastation before him would match the devastation that raged inside him.

When he rolled to a stop, Optimus stared numbly at his surroundings, memories of early wartime stirring inside him.

_“I would prefer you remain at base, my friend.”_

_“What? Why?”_

_“I fear...I fear that you see too much war.”_

_“You fear—? Are you even seeing what’s around you, Optimus?! This is a medical bay! The war is just as much here as anywhere! I_ need _to be in the field. I spend my thoughts and hands on those who are out there; is it wrong for me to want to help them_ out there _? I might, in fact, prevent a lot of injuries!”_

_“Ratchet...”_

_“You can stop right there, Optimus Prime! While I may not be strengthened by a Matrix of Leadership, I am_ far _more willing than others to battle if it is what you need. And though I doubt you’re blind to it, let me tell you: it_ is _what you need.”_

_“But Ratchet—”_

_“You won’t change my mind. Besides—”_

_“I don’t want to lose you.”_

_“I don’t want to lose you.”_

Optimus remembered how the two had stared at each other after such speaking such touching words in unison. After stammering apologies they didn’t mean or believe, they had each recoiled, leaving the conversation with a question mark. Years had worn the question mark down to a period and changed what they wanted to what they needed. They _wouldn’t_ lose each other. It was final.

But now...

“Optimus,” his comlink crackled in his audial. “You should come back.”

Optimus heard something in Mrs. Darby’s tone, something that wouldn’t allow for refusal. Swiftly he backed up, sending a silent apology to whatever landscapers would find the flattened trees later in the morning.

As soon as he was back inside the bunker, Optimus demanded, “Any change?”

“He was conscious for a second or two,” June informed him. “He asked about you, but he didn’t really seem to understand me when I told him you were gone.”

 _That was your first mistake. I’m_ always _there when he needs me_ , Optimus was too polite to snap. He was glad humans couldn’t sense EM fields, because his was radiating an un-Primely sour mood.

“You should talk to him,” the nurse continued. “He’s in shock, which is completely understandable, but hearing a familiar voice can be comforting.”

Nodding silently, Optimus took a meaningful step forward. Mrs. Darby returned the nod and motioned for the kids to walk with her. When they were alone in the room, Optimus reached over the rail on the platform and brushed his thumb over Ratchet’s hair. He’d never felt a human’s hair before—its softness surprised him. Closing his optics so he didn’t have to see Ratchet’s wounds but continuing the gentle strokes, Optimus reached out with his EM field, embracing his friend in it. This was speech on the physical and emotional planes, but on the psychological...

 **::I’m here,::** Optimus murmured in only slightly rusty Cybertronian. **::Just let me know you’re here too.::**


	20. *Ratchet*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 20: "All Around Me" by Flyleaf.

As he returned from somewhere he didn’t know he’d gone, Ratchet felt something tickling his nose. He wanted to swipe at it, but numbness crawled through his arm and hindered his movements. But more important than that, what was this warmth all around him?

Although he could feel a blanket pulled up to his shoulders, this heat was different. It felt like a warm yet weightless guardian was hugging him in a way that was snug but just behind the line of discomfort. Whoever this guardian was, Ratchet realized sluggishly, they needed and wanted the contact as much as he did. Half of him wanted to reciprocate, to return the love, but he was too relaxed to try just yet.

He wouldn’t have minded staying like this forever, Ratchet thought drowsily. Here in this never-ending warmth with his vigilant guardian, who had a smooth voice and whispered words that calmed him while affectionately petting his hair.

If he were able to figure out what was irritating his nose, everything would be perfect.

Without warning Ratchet felt a blast of cold that prickled into every part of his body. His guard was pulling out of the hug, distracted by something else. In dismay Ratchet reached out for the warmth but felt nothing. He couldn’t hear the words of comfort anymore, just whispers alternating between high and low, loud and soft. Ratchet disliked them and the cold that came with them. He whined after his protector and, to his delight, the embrace wrapped hastily back around him, cozying him up immediately and practically making him _purr_ in pleasure.

Just to make sure his caretaker would stay put, he had to try returning the affection, Ratchet decided, nestling further into it. When he discovered he had a voice, Ratchet also recalled that his protector had a name...Ratchet was _certain_ he knew that name...

“Optimus?” he muttered sluggishly as he blinked his eyes open, wanting to see his invisible guardian for himself.

Not so invisible, Ratchet observed as he met the large, bright blue optics of Optimus Prime. Ratchet immediately closed his eyes again. _I can do without the bright light, thank you,_ he said mentally, hoping Optimus could hear.

Optimus just said his name, his tone no longer comforting but anxious. That made Ratchet uneasy. What had troubled his caretaker? Why did he sound so afraid? Reluctantly he let himself be drawn back to the light.

“Optimus,” he repeated, softer than before because of his resignation.

 **::You recognize me?::** Optimus asked hopefully.

Ratchet gave him a sleepy half-smile. What a silly question! How could he not know the Prime? He was Ratchet’s safety personified.

“It’s probably the pain reliever making him loopy,” another being called out, making Ratchet startle. Their voice was shrill and hurt his ears, so different from Optimus’ voice that he turned his head away. Optimus’ fingertips were there in an instant, gently tilting his face back the way it had come.

 **::Are you with us, Ratchet?::** his guardian questioned.

“Here, let me try,” a second squeaky voice requested. “Hey, Doc! You awake?!”

Ratchet was becoming confused and somewhat frightened. Those other voices were sharp and dizzying and Ratchet did _not_ like them. Whimpering softly, he rubbed his cheek against Optimus’ fingers, much like an upset puppy, silently pleading that he just hug him again and make the unpleasant sounds leave. But even Optimus’ warmth couldn’t keep him from wondering what in the world was making his nose so itchy. Finally he lifted the hand that wasn’t numb and tried to get at the itch. Much to his surprise and alarm, Optimus was the one who stopped him, pulling his hand away and holding it down.

 **::Ratchet, you mustn’t touch that,::** Optimus told him firmly. **::That’s your oxygen. It’s helping you breathe.::**

 _But I don’t want it!_ Ratchet tried to protest, but all of a sudden yet another voice was right next to his ear. All it had to say was a set of three numbers and suddenly Ratchet was terribly afraid.

“115,” the voice hissed. “115. 115. 115.”

Ratchet _definitely_ hated that voice the most. It caused him pain, pain which scrabbled at his arms and legs and made it harder to breathe. He craved the oxygen now, gasping shallowly for it but finding it just out of the grasp of his weak lungs. Worse, he was choking on something.

“Turn him on his side!” the first of the other beings commanded and Optimus did so. Ratchet coughed repeatedly, wrapping his arms around the large finger his guardian had placed on his chest for support.

“Doesn’t the pressure make it worse?” a second shrill tone asked worriedly just as the first warned, “You shouldn’t do that, Optimus!”

 _Don’t take it away_ , Ratchet prayed as his airway locked up again and the pounding in his head became a storm.

115, 115, 115...

Finally the echoes ceased, along with his fit. Nevertheless Ratchet remained curled around Optimus’ finger, too drained to move. Optimus kept his hand very still and Ratchet was grateful to him for that. He tried speaking and his voice came out in a slur.

 **::Hurts...::** was all he could say.

 **::I’m sorry,::** Optimus whispered, rubbing Ratchet’s aching back with his other hand.

 **::Your fault,::** Ratchet mumbled sluggishly. At the way Optimus startled, Ratchet realized he’d mislaid a word. **::Not. Not your fault.::**

Optimus thanked him, but Ratchet could hear the stiffness in his voice and knew he believed otherwise. **::Not your fault,::** Ratchet repeated with as much insistence as he could muster.

 **::I wasn’t there to help you like I should have been,::** Optimus reminded him ashamedly. Ratchet stared at him—or at least tried to. His eyes were closing on their own, despite how he fought it.

 **::You weren’t where?::** he questioned deliriously, forgetting why he was asking the question.

 **::With you,::** Optimus repeated in an oddly tremulous voice. He was venting more quickly, but Ratchet didn’t know why.

 **::What? Who’s with me...?::** Ratchet didn’t expect an answer and even if he received one he didn’t hear it. All he knew was that he was quite comfortable wherever he was and he wanted to stay like this for a while. For some reason he was exhausted and this warmth falling around him felt pretty good.

Just before a wave of darkness rolled in, Ratchet almost thought he caught an _infinitesimally_ tiny whimper from whatever guardian held him, but he refused to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a case of the sads and I want Optimus as my blanky! T^T


	21. *Optimus*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 21: "Need You Now (How Many Times)" by Plumb.

Optimus vented sharply as Ratchet’s grip on him wilted. Optimus kept his index finger against Ratchet’s chest, as its shaky rising and falling was his only sign of movement. The other hand he pressed over his mouth as though he would start coughing up blood as Ratchet had. In truth, the Prime was suppressing the whimper which had started escaping him.

 _Primus, save him. I’ve been such a servant to you, but so much has been taken from me! Not this. Not him. If he were an Autobot or a human or even a_ Decepticon _, he would still be my best friend!_

_Save him. I restored your life force, therefore I am imploring to you—restore his!_

Though Optimus reached his spark out as far as he could, he felt no kind of response. Angered by the nothingness rather than broken, Optimus retracted his hand from Ratchet’s and stood, stalking back and forth agitatedly and wishing he could break something without making a mess.

At least he could break the silence. Before Optimus knew what was happening, every last expletive in his eon-built vocabulary was coursing out of him, sometimes strung into combinations and sometimes even in compound dialects. It was only when he’d reached his hundredth oath that he noticed the humans had returned and they were gaping at him as though they didn’t recognize him.

Optimus didn’t blame them. This was a side of him he often kept buried in a place deep inside, never letting it out, even for a moment, or someone could be hurt. The fact that someone _was_ hurt had given the beast below a rope to climb out of the abyss and a reprogram to Optimus’ processor.

 _Cut the rope. Don’t let the beast rule you_. Turning his head away, Optimus just tried to vent for a moment or two before he spoke.

“I apologize,” he said to Mrs. Darby, who wore the most dubious expression. “I don’t know how much of that you heard, but it was thoughtless and inappropriate of me to curse in front of the children.”

Mrs. Darby shook her head wordlessly, making Optimus wonder if that meant she accepted his apology or not.

“Hey, it’s fine, big man,” Miko spoke for the three youths. “You were just letting off some steam.” Bounding up to a higher platform so she could lower her voice, Miko whispered conspiratorially, “What was the last one you said? The one that sounded like E.T. or something?”

“I do not think it wise to teach you the profanities of other worlds,” Optimus replied steadily. “Even if you were able to master them, a highly doubtful concept, you would never have any use for them.”

Miko pouted, mumbling something about missing a chance to see a different Prime as she walked off. Optimus watched her go sadly. She didn’t know how truly fortunate she and the others were to be shielded from _that_ Prime.

The morning passed to the afternoon and the afternoon waned to evening. Ratchet spent his fourth day as a human prostrate on a bed with Optimus standing beside him, both struggling to breathe for different reasons. Agent Fowler had gone home ages ago. Mrs. Darby dropped the children off for bed and then returned, despite Optimus’ assurances that he would watch over Ratchet for the night.

Optimus heard her car return, but he finished the verse of the poem he was reading before he stood to greet her.

_The sun smiles down,_

_Admiring her glistening reflection in the water-mirror._

_Then…salty fingers creep up the shore, persisting,_

_Reaching for something they cannot grasp._

_Finally, they lose hope for a little while,_

_Drifting back to their home in the sea._

_But they will come again._

“Beautiful,” June commented quietly as she came up the steps toward him. “Did you—?”

“No.” Optimus shook his head regretfully. “I may have been an archivist, but Ratchet was more a poet than I.”

“He wrote that?”

“Yes. It was required that we write at least one poem every semester to practice our eloquence. Ratchet preferred the eloquence of science rather than poetry, but he told me he enjoyed writing this one about the Sea of Rust.” Optimus shuttered his optics wearily. “I wish he had written more, because now I’ve run out of things to read to him.”

“You should take a break for a while,” June suggested. “You need the rest.”

“No,” Optimus said again in the same regretful tone. “I won’t leave him vulnerable again.”

“I think I can take care of him for at least a few hours,” June laughed gently. “I’ve been doing it fairly well these past few days, haven’t I?”

At her words, Optimus felt the beast clawing at his insides, pushing to be released upon this human who questioned his authority and capability. This human, who would make such an easy victim to his aggression—

“You weren’t able to keep him safe from what was most dangerous,” Optimus reminded her, fighting to keep the beast’s growl out of his voice. “I can protect him from things that you can’t and it’s my responsibility to do so. The whole reason we befriended each other in our youths was because I stood up for him when he couldn’t stand up for himself. I won’t have someone else doing my job for me. That would be a betrayal to us both. Though it may not show immediately, it would cause Ratchet further harm. And that I _will not_ tolerate.”

June looked surprised at the defensive oration, but she knew better than to try arguing with the fierceness in the Prime’s voice. Backing up, she held her palms out submissively.

“Alright, Optimus. I’m going home for the night. Call me if...well, if there’s something I can protect him from that you can’t.”

As soon as her car was out of sight, Optimus groaned and rested his arms on top of the railing and his chin on top of his arms. Emotion gnawed at his spark like a persistent scraplet and he took the chance to again pester his Creator.

_He still has too much fire in him. He’s not ready to merge with the Allspark yet! He’s not ready to let go! Please, let him stay just..._

Optimus trailed off, letting the amount of time be assumed as his overburdened systems unwound into a low drowse. Just as he was slipping into deeper recharge, a question from Primus slapped him back into awareness.

 _Ratchet’s not ready to let go...or_ you’re _not?_


	22. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 22: "Carry Me" by Mark Schultz.

Ratchet woke abruptly and lifted a hand to tug at the oxygen tubes tickling him. Optimus immediately lunged forward, pressing his hand down.

“Stop it, Ratchet,” Optimus pleaded, forgetting to speak in Cybertronian. “You did this before, but you can’t do it again. You need that.”

Ratchet stared at him, openmouthed. Was 115 cruel enough to make some type of hallucinogenic drug for him? This was the worst torture, having to see his Prime standing there with such concern on his face...

...and have him be imaginary. Ratchet found it hard to speak around the knot in his throat.

“Not real,” he agonized. “But I wish...” He tried to pull his hand away, but the illusion was somehow keeping ahold of it.

“Ratchet,” Optimus pleaded.

The medic froze, his heart clenching. Could a deception really say his name like _that_? Even in dreams or memories, Optimus saying his name wasn’t the same as it was personally. This definitely sounded personal.

“Is it you, Optimus?” he asked tentatively. “Or is this just another torture?” He waited to see if he would be laughed at, but Optimus only nodded excitedly.

“It’s no torture, old friend,” Optimus informed him with pleasure. His smile faltered when he added, “The only torture is for me, seeing you like this.”

Ratchet couldn’t help but sulk. “Well, let me get this tube thing out of my nose and then I won’t look so strange.”

“No, I meant your wounds—not that they look strange, but...” Optimus tried to find a way to explain without insulting the medic further but couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he concluded awkwardly.

Ratchet felt just good enough to roll his eyes, but when he started to, Optimus put a finger beneath his head to support it. “Don’t go comatose again, old friend, I beg you.”

Ratchet squirmed feebly. “The pillow was more comfortable than your finger,” he lied. Optimus’ hand was warm and gentle, but Ratchet didn’t know how else to make him stop using that fearful tone.

“I’m sorry,” Optimus said again, retracting his hand quickly and making Ratchet’s head hit the pillow faster than he thought it would. He grunted softly at the impact and Optimus lurched back a step, afraid he’d done some damage.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, more agitated than Ratchet had seen him in years.

“That’s the third apology you’ve said in less than a minute,” Ratchet remarked, hinting irritation. “I’m not made of cybre-glass, you know. I won’t break if you touch me.” He stretched out a hand, pointedly ignoring the IV he noticed there, obviously wanting Optimus to take it. The Prime hesitated and Ratchet glowered. “If you refuse, I’m going to be _very_ hurt and cross with you.”

Unwilling to upset or annoy him, Optimus tentatively brushed his fingertips against Ratchet’s. The medic breathed deeply as he felt the living metal, recognizing it and longing for his own.

“I’m human,” he whispered. In two words, he told Optimus about all his hours of anguish and hardship and failure and fear.

“You’re Ratchet,” Optimus responded in the same tone, his voice and contact sending chills across Ratchet’s skin. “That’s all you need to be.”

“No,” Ratchet burst out. “I’m not Ratchet. I won’t be until I’m an Autobot again!” He trembled at his own words, tears slipping down his cheeks and burning like acid. Optimus noticed, enfolding Ratchet’s fingers with his right hand and wiping away the tears with his left.

“Nothing and no one can change who you are: my best friend, my brother,” Optimus told him fervently.

Ratchet’s silence spoke volumes of his disbelief. Knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to re-convince him of his worth in one sitting, Optimus was just as quiet, running his thumb over Ratchet’s knuckles.

“So the humans called you to rescue me?” Ratchet clarified after a while.

“Yes.”

Ratchet forced a laugh. “About time. The Vehicon—” His throat broke on the word, as though recognizing it as neither funny nor harmless.

 **::You don’t have to be afraid,::** Optimus said, his normally soft intonation of Cybertronian hard and somewhat menacing. **::The enemy has been...taken care of.::**

Mutely Ratchet nodded his thanks. “How are the others?” he blurted out, desperate for a subject change. “How is home?”

“The repairs are coming nicely,” Optimus said mildly. “And the others are well. Excited.”

“And, um...” Ratchet broke eye contact as he mumbled, “Who’s been on medic duty?”

“Arcee.”

“Oh, good. She’s a worthy proxy,” Ratchet agreed nervously.

“Yes, but we all miss you,” Optimus sighed. “What have you been doing?” _Besides being captured and tortured_ was implied in the coloring of his cheeks that followed.

“I experimented with a human version of wash racks,” Ratchet stated, laughing weakly. “The result wasn’t what I expected.”

“Is that where you got these cuts?” Optimus asked, pushing up his sleeve and gesturing to his wrist. “They’re older than the others.”

Ratchet choked, remembering his conversation with Agent Fowler. As soon as he heard the uncomfortable noise, Optimus launched into action, flipping him onto his side before he knew what was happening. “Optimus!” Ratchet yelped. “What are you doing?!”

“You were being stifled!” Optimus exclaimed anxiously.

Ratchet turned crimson, stammering, “Well, um...I—I’m fine now.”

Still looking mildly suspicious of a coughing fit, Optimus readjusted him to his original position on his back. “I’m sorry, Ratchet. Was the sudden movement painful for you?”

“Firstly, stop apologizing,” Ratchet commanded sternly. “Secondly, yes, it hurt a little, but I’m alright.”

Optimus must have seen something reclusive in his expression, because he shook his head somberly. “No, you’re not.”

“What can you expect, Optimus?!” Ratchet snapped. “Even you would cringe if you knew what he did—you would probably cry if it happened to you, just as I did! It’s not like I’m going to just leap up and be happy again after being a plaything for a bored Decepticon! If that’s what you think is going to happen—”

Optimus lowered his gaze in an expression of shame that Ratchet hadn’t seen on him before. His tirade fell away, leaving him weary and confused.

“Optimus? Wh-what’s wrong?”

Optimus withdrew further as he declared, “It seems that, even though I want to help, I’m making it harder for you to recover. I’m expecting you to be happy again, but I see now—you haven’t been happy for a long, long time, therefore I’m expecting too much of you. You need to be saving your strength for repairing your body and spirit, not living up to what I want. I wish you the best recovery, old friend. I’ll give a greeting to the others for you.”

Ratchet watched in shock and horror as Optimus turned toward the computer, opening the program for a space bridge.

“Wait!” Ratchet cried, struggling to sit up. In his haste, he propped himself up on one elbow, only for a shot of pain to explode through it and send him toppling forward, first off the bed—and then off the platform.


	23. *Raf*

Raf had gotten up early this morning, despite his abhorrence for it, so he could visit Ratchet and see if he had improved at all before going to school. When he entered the base, he was greeted with a might crashing sound from above.

Looking up, the boy gasped when he saw Ratchet hanging off the platform over his head, howling in terror. He had latched onto the oxygen cart in his fall and it had, in turn, caught on the edge of the bed, the only thing keeping him up.

Optimus seemed to materialize out of nowhere, pushing the medic back onto safe ground and speaking rapidly in a language even a genius like Raf had trouble understanding. Ratchet responded likewise, albeit shakily, and waved Optimus away, crawling back onto the bed and coughing quietly. Unsurprisingly, the adrenaline of the sudden life-threatening situation was sapped out of his injured form within seconds and he passed out.

Raf had to crane his neck to look at Optimus, who stood staring at nothing for a long moment before turning and clomping back toward the computer, closing whatever program he had opened previously.

“Optimus?” Raf called out. The Bot startled, much to Raf’s surprise. That was something he’d never seen before from Prime. “Good morning. I just...came to visit.”

Optimus frowned. “Is it morning already?”

Raf nodded and Optimus leaned against the computer desk, rubbing his hands together. “I suppose I lost track of time.”

Something was very... _off_ about Optimus, Raf decided in the awkward silence that followed. Venturing closer, he questioned, “What was that program you opened?”

“Nothing.”

“It looked like the program for a space bridge,” Raf insisted. “Were you planning on going back to Cybertron?”

A long pause answered his question well enough.

“Ratchet’s been missing you for a long time, even before he got turned into a human,” Raf informed him. “He needs you.”

“I’m worsening his condition,” Optimus argued.

Raf frowned, perplexed. “How?”

“I expect too much of him.”

“So lower your expectations,” Raf answered simply. “Remember how Miko was trying to help Bulkhead when he got infected with the tox-en? It’s like that.” Sitting down on a part of Optimus’ foot, Raf asked, “What about you? How’s your condition?”

“What do you mean?” Optimus was looking mildly suspicious.

“I mean...well, you seemed pretty angry yesterday,” Raf admitted. “I’ve almost never seen you angry. Whatever Ratchet’s been saying and doing probably hasn’t helped either of you. You should have someone else to talk to.”

“Who would be willing to talk to me?” Optimus muttered.

Raf laughed. “ _I’m_ talking to you! You can tell me whatever you want. _If_ you want. It would probably be good for you, because you don’t seem like yourself.”

Optimus was still and silent for a long time. Sometimes Raf was still amazed by the fact that Autobots didn’t have to breathe. It was something so simple, something Raf never even paid attention to in his everyday life, and now here he was, sitting with a living being who didn’t _breathe_.

“I’ve become overemotional,” Optimus burst out, startling Raf. “When we were in war, I was able to keep my emotions in check because I always had something else to consider. Now that I have too much time on my hands...I’m getting out of control.”

“That’s okay,” Raf told him, shaking his head a moment later and clarifying. “Sorry, _not_ okay that you’re getting out of control, but it’s okay to have big feelings. It’s perfectly normal to get emotional, especially when something big has happened like this. But you can’t let them take over. And, Optimus, I don’t think you were keeping your emotions ‘in check’ during the war. I think you were stuffing them somewhere and now that you can relax your guard, they’re coming out the strongest.” He stopped to consider his own words. “I sound like my mom.”

Optimus shifted slightly. “She sounds wise,” he said quietly, sounding just a tiny bit more like the Prime Raf had met those many, many months ago.

Raf nodded vigorously. “She is. But she can get cranky sometimes. Kinda like a female Ratchet.”

Optimus’ laugh was silent, but it vibrated through his entire body and Raf could feel it. “He’s already become a human. Let’s not risk crossing another line.”

Raf grinned, but it faded when Optimus announced, “I’m going to need your help.”

“With what?”

“Accountability. If I get too emotional, I want you to be honest with me and tell me so I can leave and calm myself.”

“Don’t force yourself to calm down though,” Raf reminded him. “You have to process.”

Optimus nodded solemnly. “Another note of wisdom to add to the Primes’.”

Raf flushed and shrugged. “Thank my mom. A while ago, a friend of hers died and she got really depressed and angry with everyone. Then, I don’t know how, she just...snapped out of it and told us that you can’t let your emotions make you forget who you are, because it’s in bad times that your true self really comes out.” He shrugged again. “Or something like that.”

Optimus straightened and Raf hopped back onto the ground, wondering where he was going. When he inquired, Optimus simply said, “To Ratchet’s lab, and I would like you to accompany me.”

As they entered the bay and Optimus headed for one of the nearby cupboards, Raf got an unsettled feeling in his stomach.

“Is this about the synth-en?” he asked.

“Yes, it is.” Opening the cupboard, Optimus pushed aside a few jars and tools that were in the front and withdrew an ominously green container. Raf didn’t even want to look at it, so he ducked his head.

“Ratchet told you he had been working on it?” Optimus mused. “But why?”

“He wanted to take it to you once he’d made sure it worked,” Raf mumbled. Optimus jerked around at the words.

“For what purpose?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Raf asked. “He wanted you all to have more energy for construction and stuff...plus it was an excuse to visit.”

Optimus sighed and shook his head wearily. “Sometimes I fear Ratchet is _far_ too eager to please.”

Raf shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, he wants to make you proud.” He flinched when Optimus banged the synth-en onto a testing table.

“Because he’s become accustomed to my excessive expectations!” the Prime growled, pacing back and forth.

“Overemotional,” Raf called out quickly, leaping out of the way so he wouldn’t get smashed. “Optimus, if you’ve expected too much of him— _if!_ —then getting mad at yourself won’t change that, right? What’s done is done, but you can do better now that you know what you’ve been doing, right?!”

Optimus was still seething, so Raf changed the subject quickly. “Ratchet seems to think, because energon caused his change, that the only way to become an Autobot again is by infusing himself with energon.”

“That does seem plausible,” Optimus consented.

“But it would kill him!” Raf protested. When Optimus gave him a sharp look, Raf threw out his arms. “I’m an example. It almost killed me!”

“That was dark energon,” Optimus corrected. “It’s doubtful that low-grade energon—”

“It’s just not safe!” Raf cried. Optimus rubbed the back of his neck cables in a very human gesture.

“That is for Ratchet to decide. He may very well be willing to risk his human life for his Cybertronian life.”

Raf bit his lip. “But...what if he _loses_ _both_?”

“That would be...” Raf was expecting Optimus to say ‘heartbreaking’ or ‘unbearable’ or something of that nature, but once he considered, the Prime concluded, “...counterproductive.”

Raf gaped at him. “C-Counterproductive?!” he spluttered.

Optimus nodded contemplatively, his optics flashing as he stared at the wall but saw something else, a memory which Raf suspected was a secret only Optimus and Ratchet knew about. “Yes,” he said softly, starting to smile. “And Ratchet is _never_ counterproductive when he can help it.”


	24. *Ratchet*

Ratchet stirred slowly, almost cautiously, knowing somehow that the last thing he remembered was fear. Before he opened his eyes, he lifted a hand, reaching out to the air, wondering if anything would—

“Hello, old friend.”

The voice, however familiar, made him flail off whatever surface was holding him and into Optimus’ waiting palm. Once he caught his breath, Ratchet hugged his left arm, grimacing.

“I don’t know if I can take much more of that,” he muttered, settling his back against the base of Optimus’ middle finger.

“I’m—” Optimus paused abruptly, apparently rethinking what was probably going to be an apology. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

“That’s obvious by the way you’re grinning at me,” Ratchet told him. He suddenly realized why exactly Optimus was smiling. “Oh! I’m off the oxygen—”

“—and the IV,” Optimus finished. “You have permission to move around the base now, but I’m to be your transportation.”

“I don’t mind,” Ratchet laughed. “Anything to get off that bed.” He sobered suddenly when he remembered the last conversation he’d had with Optimus, short and panicked, just after his fall.

**::Ratchet, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?!:**

**::No, I— _I’m_ sorry...You can’t turn your back for even a second, can you...? Go on, I’ll be fine...::**

And the conversation just before that was even worse.

Optimus knew what he was thinking. “That is behind us, Ratchet,” he said firmly. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

Ratchet thanked him quietly and then shook his head. He wouldn’t be put down by things of yesterday. “So tell me what’s been happening,” he requested. “How long have I been out?”

“Today is the sixth day of your humanity,” Optimus reported. “While you were sleeping, I went to your lab and began researching the idea of infusing a human with energon.”

Ratchet perked up. “Rafael told you?”

“Yes. The results seem promising, but that’s just to my untrained optic.”

“Take me away, then,” Ratchet urged, pointing in the direction of the lab. As Optimus followed his finger, Ratchet peered over the edge of his hand, happy to be at this great height again.

The trip was over almost before it began. Ratchet carefully stepped off of his friend and onto the table where he had often worked as an Autobot. He eyed the tools lying there uneasily, as they were now far bigger than he. Sensing his discomfort, Optimus swept the tools into the cupboard.

“Data pad?” Ratchet requested.

Optimus gave him a doubtful look. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

“No,” Ratchet said in a somewhat clipped tone, frowning at him. “I’ll read it myself.” Optimus obediently set the data pad on the table in front of him. Ratchet took a deep breath and gingerly stepped onto the pad screen, walking to the upper left corner so he could read from the beginning.

The letters were huge; if they were to stand upright, they would at least come to his solar plexus, Ratchet mused fleetingly as he leaned back, squinting to see the entire first letter.

“That is an _E_ ,” Optimus supplied helpfully.

“Thank you,” Ratchet muttered, not sounding at all grateful as he clenched and unclenched his hands in frustration. The idea came to him then.

“What are you doing?” Optimus was perplexed as Ratchet looked first at his fingers and then at the screen, doing this repetitively as he took steps to the right.

“I’m finding all the _R_ s in this paragraph,” Ratchet explained, quite happy with his success.

Optimus still didn’t understand. “And how—?”

“Humans have fingerprints and _mine_ are Cybertronian runes,” Ratchet announced with pride. “All I have to do is look for a rune I recognize. I only have the letters of my Cybertronian name, but it’s enough to get the gist of this!”

Optimus smiled broadly, infected with Ratchet’s enthusiasm. “A sound plan.”

Ratchet stopped mid-step, his foot wavering in the air. “What?”

Optimus cocked his head in surprise. “Didn’t you hear me?”

An unexpected flash of light made Ratchet cover his eyes, but still he could see and hear the word _sound_ and the mist of a memory attached to it that he was blocking out.

“Ratchet, what’s wrong?” Optimus’ voice seemed close but distant, confusing the medic. Grunting, he sank down and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to forget the meaning of that word. A hiss of high-pitched static and then the memory was gone. Ratchet opened his eyes and saw Optimus bent down to stare at him in alarm.

“Nothing,” Ratchet answered the previous question. “I’m alright. Fine.” Standing precariously, he returned to deciphering the text in front of him. Ratchet could feel Optimus’ optics on his back, but he didn’t dare turn around lest he see the compassion on his friend’s face and break down.

“You did an accurate study on regular energon,” Ratchet announced when he’d finished reading (with a bit of Optimus’ help). “But what about the synth-en?”

“You know far more of that than I,” Optimus said. “I left that for you.”

“Oh, so when it comes down to the dirty work...” Ratchet left the rest implied, smirking playfully. Optimus tried to scowl but couldn’t keep it up for long, gently ruffling Ratchet’s red and white hair. Ratchet squeaked, trying to wave him away.

“If you keep doing that, Miko will have to redo my braid!” he complained, feigning annoyance.

“No, she won’t,” Optimus disagreed. “I’ve been studying the art in my time away from research and I think I know how to do it. If your hair is in need of repair and Miko isn’t here to do so, I will be her proxy.”

Ratchet stared at him. “You’ve been studying how to braid human hair since you saw mine?”

“Yes.”

Ratchet spent a long moment trying to imagine Optimus fumbling around with his hair and couldn’t. “I think I’ll let Miko keep her job as my stylist. How big your hands are, you’d be more likely to braid my neck around my head.”

Optimus wasn’t at all insulted by the last part. “Very well. Don’t say later that I didn’t offer.”

Chuckling and shaking his head, Ratchet gestured toward the cupboard. “Get another data pad, please, and type out what I tell you.”


	25. *Optimus*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just fair warning, I don't know jack about tanks and their features, but let's just assume Optimus' tank alt. mode has the same interior as a regular car, just larger and sturdier. :)

Optimus found it astonishing how quickly human forms wore down. Every few hours, Ratchet would mumble something under his breath, as though reluctant to say it louder, and Optimus would insist he tell him what the matter was.

“I have to use the...” Ratchet struggled for the word. “The—I have to lubricate.”

Optimus had been so stunned that his processor froze for a nanocycle before he realized he ought to hold out his hand. “Where should I take you?” he asked as Ratchet climbed on, trying to sound as if this was something simple that they discussed daily.

“Uh, I think that door right there,” Ratchet said, his cheeks scarlet. Optimus wondered if he was overheating, but when he inquired, Ratchet simply waved him off with a sputtered tirade about ‘blushing’.

The second time, Ratchet told him, “My throat hurts. It means I’m thirsty.”

It was so natural for Optimus to offer him a cube of energon; he had to bite his tongue against the words and carry him to the little water fountain the humans often used.

Now, as Optimus tried to scrounge up something in the base for the medic’s fiercely growling stomach, he had to come to terms with the possibility that he may have to do this for years to come.

 _I will if I have to,_ he told himself firmly. _I won’t abandon any member of my family again, ever._ He closed his optics against a flood of memories, the only thing he had left of his lost creators.

“Optimus?” a voice called tentatively from behind him. Optimus opened his optics once more, imagining just for a moment that Ratchet was going to ask him if he wanted to sit up on Cliffjumper’s ledge, reminisce over cubes of medium-grade energon until they both dozed, or perhaps take a long drive.

Ratchet had always known, before Prime’s upgrade, that he favored a drive with a companion. Oh, how fast they’d torn down the familiar roads, Optimus sometimes swerving left to playfully nudge Ratchet and honk a challenge. Ratchet would rev his engines in acceptance and take off with a burst of speed, laughing at him through yowling ambulance sirens.

But no. “I’m getting really hungry,” Ratchet murmured, his voice small, as though he could sense he was somehow letting the Prime down.

Optimus ex-vented slowly, leaned down and scooped up his old friend. “Here,” he urged, setting him on the galley counter and nudging a plate next to his hand.

Ratchet stared at it for a long moment and then looked away, making a small noise in his throat that Optimus shouldn’t have recognized as angst but did anyway.

“What is wrong, Ratchet?”

“I can’t hold the plate up with a broken arm.”

Optimus immediately cursed himself for his stupidity and leaned forward, balancing the tiny human plate on one fingertip and holding it under Ratchet’s chin. Sighing his reluctant thanks, Ratchet began eating.

Optimus’ joints would probably need a little greasing after having to keep them frozen like this, he mused to himself. Hoping to prevent that, Optimus disconnected power to his hand so it could simply rest.

When Ratchet was finished licking his messy fingers in a way that Optimus privately hoped he would never need to see again, he grinned up at the Prime. “I’m ready to get back to work!”

Optimus shook his head. “No. You ought to rest now, old friend.”

Ratchet moaned. “Optimus, I can’t rest when we’re so close to a breakthrough!”

“The data will be there when you return,” Optimus reminded him, reactivating his hand and making a ‘come’ gesture. Curious as to his intent, Ratchet stepped into his palm. Smiling, Optimus strode out of the base with purpose. Once they were on the edge of the road, as Ratchet opened his mouth to question, Optimus activated his jetpack and crouched on the dirt.

Ratchet was starting to get uneasy. “Optimus—”

“Trust me,” the Prime requested just before he sprang, bursting upward into the air. Ratchet couldn’t help but shriek and Optimus chuckled, squeezing Ratchet’s body very gently and comfortingly in his fist.

“Optimus! _What are we doing?!_ ” Ratchet shouted above the whistling of the wind.

Optimus smirked, stating the obvious. “We are flying.”

Ratchet’s eyes went wide in panic, but a few moments more and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward. He gasped as he saw the land far below.

“We’re...flying!” he echoed in awe. “I—I’ve never...it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced!”

“We’ve not tested my upgraded form together before,” Optimus agreed. “The chance was too great to pass up now.”

Ratchet didn’t need words to express his agreement; the thrilled grin on his face told all. Encouraged, Optimus added power to his engines, tightening his grip on Ratchet as he suddenly somersaulted into a loop, bursting out with laughter when the human let out a squeal of delighted fear.

As he righted his position, Optimus saw Ratchet’s smile change slightly and asked, “What are you thinking, Ratchet?”

The medic looked up at him with shining eyes. “I’m thinking that it’s really, really _good_ to hear you laugh.”

Optimus slowed his pace, considering his friend’s words and not really knowing what to say in return. Ratchet sensed this and told him that was alright by rewarding him with a rare laugh of his own.

Eventually Optimus touched down on the road and transformed.

“Let’s do that again very soon,” Ratchet begged eagerly as one of the tank’s seatbelts secured itself over him, a courtesy Optimus extended for the sake of his wounded arm.

“We will, I promise,” Optimus assured him. “But for now, we’d best get back to base.”

He drove in silence for a long while and then Ratchet, who was staring out the window, murmured something that Optimus didn’t catch. He was about to ask about it when Ratchet loudened his voice, repeating himself.

He was imitating an ambulance siren. Optimus recognized the challenge, pressing what remained of his charge into his gears. Ratchet laughed again, sounding more boyish than Optimus had heard him in years. He honked his alt. mode’s horn in return, but Ratchet was less than impressed.

“What’s the point of having a horn if it’s not even as loud than your engine?!” he cried.

Optimus would shrug, but he was in vehicle mode. “I don’t know.”

Shaking his head, Ratchet leaned back in the seat, putting his feet on the dashboard and his good arm behind his head. Optimus was going to scold him until he saw a car some yards ahead, rounding a corner and driving toward them. Screeching his brakes, Optimus reversed and crashed them into some bushes off road that were relatively the same color as his alt. mode. After the car passed, Ratchet felt free to dispute Optimus’ opinion.

“You’re blue and red. Bushes are green.”

“When I am given very little time to think, I hide where I can,” Optimus replied steadily as the bunker came into view. “Next time, give me further warning and I will attempt to find a better hiding spot—perhaps I will even be able to take flight before they reach us...” He trailed off, slowing and lowering the engine noise to a purr as he pulled into the base and stopped, deciding to let Ratchet stay where he was as he slept.


	26. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 26: "What Have You Done" by Plan Three.

Ratchet woke a few hours later and, when he realized he was still inside his friend, muttered sleepily, “Optimus?”

The tank jerked around him. “Yes,” Optimus said hastily, meaning he had been recharging also.

As he was becoming more alert, Ratchet was becoming more worried. “I have to get up. My legs are...they’re...I can’t feel them.”

Optimus transformed immediately, cupping him in both hands. “What?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” Ratchet repeated uneasily. “They’re numb.”

“I’m going to set you down,” Optimus informed him. “Try to walk.”

Ratchet nodded his consent and slid down from Optimus’ palm. He gasped and pinwheeled his arms when a sharp prickling sensation stabbed at his feet. Optimus put a finger at his back to support him and he reached behind him and held onto it.

“It hurts!” he exclaimed in alarm. “Why does it hurt?!”

“I don’t know,” Optimus responded, making Ratchet’s panic intensify.

“My legs are stinging,” he said anxiously. “I—” His sentence was lost when he tried to take a step and collapsed, crying out.

“I will contact Nurse Darby,” Optimus told him. “Don’t move.”

“As if I could,” Ratchet hissed in pain, curling into himself and hating the shockwaves that resulted, traveling from his hips downward.

After what seemed an eternity, Ratchet watched from the ground as June’s car pulled into the base.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, getting down to business immediately.

“My legs!” Ratchet wailed miserably. “When I move them, they’re weak and tingly and when I _don’t_ move them, I can’t feel them!”

June knelt down next to him, laying a hand on his ankle and making him flinch. “Does that hurt?”

Ratchet nodded vigorously. June tested his shin with the same response. Carefully she moved her way upward until she reached his ribs.

“No, that’s fine,” Ratchet assured her. “But my legs! What’s wrong with them?” June covered her mouth, but Ratchet could see wrinkling around her eyes. “Why are you smiling?!” he demanded angrily.

“I think your legs are asleep,” she murmured, letting her smile color her voice.

Ratchet was utterly confused. “What?! But I’m awake!”

“The medical term is _paresthesia_. When you don’t move for a long period of time, it’s normal for limbs to ‘fall asleep’. You just didn’t have enough blood in your legs,” June explained. “It’ll fade soon enough.”

Groaning, Ratchet complained as Optimus held out a finger to help him up, “This human body has so many faults! I can’t wait to return to normal.”

June nodded wordlessly, but Ratchet saw the doubt in her eyes. Swallowing hard, he sat in Optimus’ hand and wiggled his feet, trying to get the circulation flowing again.

“I’m sorry I called you for a false alarm, Nurse Darby,” Optimus apologized. “We just didn’t understand what was happening.”

June waved him off. “It’s alright. I was planning on stopping by anyway. How are things going?”

“Fine,” Ratchet answered shortly. “We’re just...doing some research.”

“Oh? What about?”

Primus curse her curiosity, Ratchet thought fleetingly as he left the question unanswered.

“Okay,” June agreed to his silence. “I’ll let you get back to it. Jack and Miko say hello, by the way.”

“Tell them hello back,” Ratchet said woodenly. June said she would and went back to her car.

As she backed out, Optimus asked quietly, “Why didn’t you want to tell her about our research?”

Ratchet sighed crossly. “She—she doesn’t...ugh, it’s complicated.” Ratchet felt hurt stir as he spoke, not just in his legs. “She thinks...I’m a pain. An inconvenience.”

“I don’t understand,” Optimus said in a puzzled tone. “She interacted easily with you just now.”

“But it’s all a charade!” Ratchet burst out. “She was talking to Agent Fowler just before I fell and broke this arm. She said I was an ‘inconvenience’ and a ‘pain’. She said I needed _babysitting_!”

“Ratchet,” Optimus sighed. “You are injured. It is best that you have supervision—”

“You agree with her?!” Ratchet gasped, horrified. Optimus opened his mouth to deny it a second too late by Ratchet’s clock. “You do!”

“Ratchet—”

“That’s why you wanted to leave, then, isn’t it? Cos you agree with her! How did you even know about that conversation? Did she tell you while I was sedated?! Were you—were you gossiping about how difficult I am?!”

“ _Ratchet_.”

The medic snapped his mouth shut at the Prime’s stern voice. Optimus had various ways of saying his name; this was the ‘Remain-Silent-Ratchet’.

“You are neither a pain nor an inconvenience. If you were, I promise I would not be here holding you and talking to you,” Optimus said sternly. “If you were, I wouldn’t have stood up for you in that alley when we were youths.”

_“Orion? Get out of my way!”_

_“I won’t let you hurt him, Blitzfire.”_

_“You expect me to let that little scrap go?!”_

_“While I’m standing between you, I do.”_

Ratchet’s flashback happened immediately, but it wasn’t enough to calm him. “But you think I need babysitting,” he argued. “Well, I don’t. Put me down on the lab table.” Optimus tried to speak, but Ratchet shook his head and pointed insistently. “Table, now.”

With a deep sigh, Optimus obeyed, letting him down.

“I’m going to work on the synth-en research,” Ratchet told him fiercely. “You can do what you want. I’ll call you when I’m not angry anymore.”

“Very well,” Optimus complied quietly, turning and striding out of the room. Ratchet didn’t wait to watch him go.


	27. *Optimus*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 27: "My Skin" by Natalie Merchant.

Optimus stood in a corner of the base, staring steadily at the laboratory. He was glad he hadn’t chosen to close the door behind him and Ratchet was too small to do it. He could still keep an optic on his friend, as he was rather concerned that Ratchet would try to do something foolish.

“Prime!”

Optimus barely spared Agent Fowler a glance as he emerged from his office. “Yes,” he acknowledged distractedly.

“Now that you’re back, I just wanted to give you an update on what’s happened in your absence.” When Optimus failed to answer, Fowler followed his gaze. “How’s the patient?”

“Upset,” Optimus announced without hesitation. “He believes we consider him a burden.”

“Maybe that’s why he was...” Fowler trailed off. The following silence was uncomfortable and Optimus caught it.

“What were you saying, Agent Fowler?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well...he was cutting,” Fowler burst out.

Optimus raised an eyebrow. “Cutting what?”

Fowler fidgeted, muttering, “Himself.” When Optimus’ face scrunched up in confusion, he tried to explain. “Some people are upset or depressed, so they hurt themselves, try to punish themselves or try to find a pain to distract them from what they’re already feeling. It’s hard to explain.”

Optimus gaped. “And Ratchet was doing such?”

“Yeah.” Fowler shook his head sadly. “If he finds out I told you, he’ll kill me.”

The Prime’s wide optics flicked between the human before him and the human in the other room. He couldn’t believe his audials. Ratchet was a _doctor!_ Why would a doctor, of all people, cause themselves harm?! It went against everything Ratchet stood for.

“I need to speak with him,” he declared, but Fowler shook his head violently.

“No. If he’s already upset with us about something else, bringing that up will make it worse, right?”

Optimus ground his teeth and, realizing that he had jumped to his feet, sank back down. “How can I help him then?”

“Well, you ought to read up on the subject,” Fowler began, “and, since you’re his best friend and he trusts you, figure out the best way to approach him about it. You have to make sure he knows you’re not disgusted—”

“But I am,” Optimus protested. “It’s nothing a doctor should be doing.”

“—not disgusted with _him_ as a person,” Fowler stressed. “You have to be calm about this. Calm and affectionate, but not smothering.”

Optimus studied him intently. “You seem quite knowledgeable on this subject.”

Fowler suddenly seemed to find the floor engrossing. “My mom did the same thing. I had to go through all this with her. Ended up saving her life, in fact.”

Ex-venting, Optimus looked toward the lab. “He doesn’t believe this human life of his is worth saving.”

“Neither did she,” Fowler admitted. “Still, you can be encouraging right? That’s part of what being a leader is, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Optimus smiled a little. “You weren’t here for many of my motivational speeches during the war.”

“I’m sure they were great,” Fowler reassured him. “So encourage his research. It’s what he loves _and_ it’s helping him get his old life back.”

Optimus shook his head. “No. He will never have his old life back. We will find a way to make him an Autobot again, but he will never be the same.”

Fowler mimicked the head shake. “It’s amazing to me how you can quote about every dramatic line in existence and still make it sound so...ominous.”

Perplexed, Optimus was about to ask why that was so amazing when he heard his name being called. Rising to his feet, he reminded himself— _Calm and affectionate, but not smothering_. He just hoped Ratchet wouldn’t feel guilty for accepting his calm affection and smother himself.

“Yes, Ratchet?” he acknowledged, poking his head in through the doorway.

Ratchet flapped his arms furiously at the data pad he was standing on. “I’m not angry at you anymore,” he growled. “But I can’t type _anything_ on this fragging pad!”

“Very well. Let me help,” Optimus offered unnecessarily, gently replacing his friend and picking up the pad, easily typing the sequence of numbers Ratchet recited from memory to him. Remembering the conversation he’d been having only a minute before this, Optimus mused, “The research is coming along nicely.”

Ratchet nodded. “I’m hopeful, but we don’t have much to go on; only Rafael’s experience with energon is an indication of what could happen to me.” He sighed heavily, leaning against the wall at the back of the table. “I’m tempted to just scrap everything and pump myself.”

Optimus’ optics went wide in alarm. “Ratchet, that’s too much of a risk.”

Ratchet stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘risk’? It’s the same risk, just doing it sooner rather than later!”

“But further study would still be beneficial,” Optimus reminded him in a much more even tone. _Calm_...

A muscle twitched in Ratchet’s jaw. “But, as I just said,” he repeated, trying very hard to remain patient, “we have barely anything to go on. I need to try this.” He pointed out into the other room. “Would you mind grabbing my IV cart and bringing it in here please?”

Optimus got nervous. “You want to try this now?”

“Yes, now will you get the IV?” Ratchet asked again. “Please?”

“Ratchet...” Optimus knew this wouldn’t exactly be what Agent Fowler had suggested as encouraging, but he was starting to get pretty worried. His spark was pulsing swiftly, urgently, telling him he couldn’t let Ratchet do this, not now.

Or was it telling him something else? Optimus inverted his EM field, testing his spark curiously. He felt reciprocation, something familiar.

 _Primus?_ he tried with his thoughts. _What are you saying to me?_ His spark stung in response, its heat prickling outward into every circuit in his body.

“Why are you ignoring me?!” Ratchet was demanding when Optimus came to himself.

“I am listening to Primus,” Optimus hushed him. Ratchet stilled upon hearing the name of their Creator.

“What...what does he say?” the medic asked in a voice tinged with awe.

Optimus paused, the heat of his spark traveling through his throat cables and burning the words onto his lips.

“There is another solution.”


	28. *Ratchet*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor references/spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen the G1 episode "Autobot Spike". If you have seen it, you'll probably know what I'm talking about. If not, go watch it. :P

Ratchet kicked his feet impatiently as Jack, Miko, Raf, June, and Fowler all filed in, ready to listen to Optimus’ news. Ratchet was just as curious as they were; despite his angry protests, Optimus had refused to tell him what his solution was.

Once the other humans were seated, Ratchet found himself being taken off Optimus’ shoulder and set down gently on the medical bed. He had an urge to lie down, but he was too anxious to hear what Primus had spoken to the Prime that, despite how tired he was, he couldn’t rest.

“I believe the way to make Ratchet an Autobot again,” Optimus began, getting right to the point, “is by way of the Cortexitron.”

Ratchet gasped, nearly toppling backwards in his disbelief. “The Cortexitron?! But it hasn’t been used in ages! Ever since—” He broke off, gnawing on his lower lip as the memories of past devastation flashed through his mind.

Optimus nodded somberly. “I know, old friend, but Primus himself has suggested it to me and I have faith that it will work.”

“And for those of us who have no clue what ‘the Cortexitron’ is?” Jack requested loudly, reminding them of his and the others’ presence.

“The Cortexitron is an Autobot form of a ‘cortical psychic patch’ but for _transference_ ,” Ratchet explained hastily. “It’s an invention Wheeljack and I made a long, long time ago.”

“An invention that can transfer a mind?” Raf clarified, intrigued.

“Well...yes,” Ratchet agreed. “But it’s on our old ship, the _Ark_ , and I haven’t used it in centuries.” He trained his gaze on Optimus. “That’s another thing: I _can’t_ use it, not in this form! I’m too small—”

“I will be operating it,” Optimus explained patiently.

Ratchet gaped at him. “Do you know how?!”

“No, but you can instruct me.”

“I might not even remember!” Ratchet protested in dismay. “We’d have to do repairs, upgrades, get those glitches out, because I do not want and _will not have_ what happened to Spike happening to me!”

“Spike?” Miko echoed. “Who’s Spike?”

“No one who concerns you,” Ratchet snapped, too preoccupied with his train of thought to answer her in full. “And there’s another problem, Optimus. In order for the Cortexitron to work...” His throat caught and he was sure he could feel his spark—no, heart—sinking into his stomach. “In order for the Cortexitron to work, there has to be another body where my mind can be transferred.” He lifted his right hand and patted his chest softly. “This is my Autobot body. I...I _can’t_ settle for any other.”

“You won’t need to,” Optimus announced. “For I will use the Matrix of Leadership to reform your body.”

Everyone in the room gaped at Optimus—more specifically, at the hatch to his spark chamber. Miko, as usual, was the first to speak up.

“Optimus...you’re blasting out the Matrix energy _again_?! Into Ratchet?!”

“No. Rather I am...binding it to him temporarily.”

Miko’s face lit up almost before the words were out of Optimus’ mouth. “Wait, is he gonna become, like, _Ratchimus Prime_ or something?!”

Ratchet scoffed. “Please—!” Then he flushed and rubbed at his neck, having accidentally spit on himself and cost himself the dignity of his retort.

“I do not know what effects it will have on his body,” Optimus admitted. “But what dwells in my spark is known to our race not only as the Matrix of Leadership but also the Matrix of Creation. I am trusting Primus’ message to me as confirmation that it will work. However,” the Prime added, “it is, of course, Ratchet’s decision.”

Ratchet flushed an even deeper shade of pink when all eyes and optics in the room turned to him expectantly. Sighing deeply, he massaged the bridge of his nose.

“This is your chance, Ratchet,” Fowler murmured.

Closing his eyes, Ratchet reviewed the past week in his memories, watching himself fail and succeed, laugh and cry. He saw himself choking on his breakfast, locked away in the guest room of the Darby’s house. He saw the burn from the stove, the bandages and the blood, always crimson and smelling like singed metal. He felt Miko’s hands through his hair, weaving it together into the messy braid that still hung at his shoulder now. He felt sleep, human sleep, and saw nightmares. He felt the water pooling around him in the human wash-racks and the itch of the hospital gown. He felt the Vehicon, 115, synching cables around him, cutting off blood, and the terrible resulting cold that he couldn’t shake.

And there was the _pain_. The anguish, the heartache he’d felt ever since he’d found himself on the floor, waking up to be a completely different person with the same memories and life experiences yet unable to live his life any way similar.

The next thing Ratchet knew, he was curled up in Optimus’ hand, bawling wretchedly. “I can’t take this anymore!” he sobbed, clutching at his chest where his spark ought to be, his spirit breaking again and again when he felt nothing there. “It _hurts!_ ” he wailed.

Optimus did the best he could, cradling him in his EM field, pushing any and every drop of comfort he had in his spark through it. Ratchet’s sobbing eventually defused into hoarse gasps. Forcing himself upright, Ratchet stared with eyes filled with tragedy up at Optimus.

 **::Do it!::** he implored desolately in their home Tongue, not wanting the others to understand his words as he begged. **::Do it, Optimus. I’m _broken_. Please, please free me from this.::**

Optimus’ wordless nod said everything Ratchet needed to hear. It was a promise, one unlike any other Optimus had given him.

 _I swear it: I will save you_.

Fowler, June, and the kids watched the exchange with varying degrees of discomfort, disbelief, and sobriety. Ratchet dried his face and motioned for Optimus to set him down on the platform with the others. Once his feet were on the ground, he mumbled, “Where are my clothes?”

“What was that?” June asked in surprise.

Ratchet squared his shoulders, swallowing the lump in his throat and planting his hands on his hips. “Where are my clothes?!” he repeated, raising his voice. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that my clothing is a little baggier than usual!”

“Oh, um, those are mine,” Agent Fowler admitted sheepishly.

“Yours were all burnt up from...what happened,” Jack told him.

“So we’ve been patching them up,” Miko exclaimed proudly.

Ratchet looked aghast. “No! Bring them here right now, don’t do them any more damage! When I become an Autobot again, I will not have multicolored patches all over my arms and legs! Go now, chop-chop!”

Exaggerating their offense, the kids trudged toward June’s car and the adults followed. Ratchet was able to maintain his righteous anger until they were all out of sight. Then he sank back against the medical bed, releasing a pent-up breath.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed dejectedly, ducking his head as his last tears rewetted his cheeks faster than he could stop them. “That must have been...embarrassing for you.”

Optimus tipped his chin up so they were eye to optic. “I was _moved_ by it.” He gave Ratchet a small smile. “We’ve been friends so long...I don’t think I remember how to be embarrassed by you.”

Ratchet laughed weakly, swatting his large finger away. “I wish the feeling was mutual.”


	29. *Optimus*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you are confused, I'm making this a sort of fusion of G1 and TFP, where Wheeljack was once part of Optimus' old crew.
> 
> Soundtrack for Chapt. 29: "Please Remember" by Diane Warren.

The _Ark_. It had been easy for Optimus to find; he and Ratchet had both, long ago, memorized the coordinates of their old ship. It sat practically vertical just where they had left it. Optimus found it difficult to pry the hatch open, as it was tightly sealed with the rust of ages.

At last, with much squeaking and groaning, the door snapped off. Optimus grimaced as he set it aside. He sat on the edge of the hatch, lowering himself down cautiously. As soon as he landed agilely on the floor, Optimus was struck by the darkness, by deep-rooted memories of comrades long lost. Ratchet, who sat on his shoulder, drew in a sharp breath and Optimus knew he was experiencing the same.

The war had cost them so much, so many—Ironhide, Hound, the Twins, Trailbreaker, the Minibots, Red Alert, Tailgate, Cliffjumper... Optimus stood motionless for a long moment, letting his vents cycle the stale air, staring intently into the darkness and wondering if the Autobot shadows he saw flitting around him were tricks of his optics.

“We should find the Cortexitron,” he said at last.

“Yes,” Ratchet agreed, his voice unsteady and barely audible. “Let’s find Teletraan I and turn on the lights.”

Optimus wandered forward into the oblivion, wincing as some crashes in his wake. The last time he’d set foot in here, he had been a much younger and _smaller_ Prime. Eventually he slammed into the computer console and fumbled his fingers over the monitor, praying he’d find the—ah, there they were.

The lights sputtered weakly as they were brought to life. Optimus blinked a few times to adjust to the illumination. “Where did you keep the device?” he asked.

“After what happened to Spike, Wheeljack and I put it in storage,” Ratchet explained. “I’m glad we never dismantled it...Now we just have to get it out and see how extensive the wear has been.”

Optimus turned in a wide circle. “Would you happen to remember where storage is?”

Ratchet paused. “Ah. That could be a problem.”

The Prime spent the next hour digging through debris in the hallways, u-turning from dead ends, and soothing his increasingly panicked medic. Occasionally the lights would blackout, making their search even more difficult. The first time it had happened, Optimus had kept walking blindly and hadn’t recognized their surroundings again for an amount of time he and Ratchet decided best be kept between them.

At long last, when Ratchet was somewhere between rage and hysteria, Optimus crawled on hands and knees over a mountain of wreckage to the dented door behind it. He wiped away some dirt crust to see the room’s label. What bittersweet irony, he mused when he could make out the word ‘ _age’_ , a fragment of ‘ _storage’_.

“How are we going to get in?” Ratchet asked worriedly. “There’s no way we can move all this.”

“Have faith, old friend,” Optimus requested, plucking Ratchet off his shoulder and settling him into a little nook of the debris. Pulling his cannon off his shoulder, Optimus blasted the door down.

The storage room had poor lighting and smelled of eroding metal and curdled energon lubricant. Optimus could just make out the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with junk pieces and half-made inventions.

Optimus assumed Ratchet would be impatient to begin the search, but as he took a few steps inside, he heard Ratchet murmur, “We were...so young. So eager to help.” Forlornly he swept a hand through the dust particles floating around them. “All of this...we were so sure that it would be vital to the cause someday, that maybe one of these trinkets would stop or at least slow down the deaths.”

“Ratchet—”

“Don’t tell me to stop before I get melancholy, Optimus,” Ratchet cut him off quietly. “I already am.”

Optimus pursed his lips and nodded. “I’m sorry, old friend. Perhaps I should have come alone to find—”

“Not a chance,” Ratchet interrupted again, his usual brusque tone returning in a flash. “Even _if_ you found the Cortexitron without my help, you’d probably break it since you don’t know how to hold it.”

“That may prove to be a problem, then, old friend,” Optimus remarked as he bent down and pulled on a tarp to see what was behind it. “As I’m the only one here large enough to hold it.”

“Believe me, Optimus, no one is more acutely aware of that fact than I am,” Ratchet snapped, hurt leaking through the cold anger in his tone. “So let’s find the device and create a better difference in size between us.”

Optimus decided to avoid apologizing verbally; if he found the Cortexitron quickly, Ratchet would probably forgive him without words.

The search consisted of Optimus poking through the items littering the floor and lower shelves, as those were made to accommodate larger items like the one they were looking for. Ratchet would direct him to areas that held more hope, but other than that he remained completely silent.

“I find it odd that you and Wheeljack were once disorganized like this,” Optimus commented after a while, inwardly cringing as soon as he realized how that sounded aloud.

Ratchet scoffed rudely. “Pay attention to the ‘and Wheeljack’ in your sentence.”

Optimus closed his optics for a moment and wished himself back to the air, where he and his friend were laughing together and completely content despite their burdens. Then Ratchet gasped, jerking him back into the dark, dusty room.

“There it is!” Ratchet cried, kicking Optimus’ shoulder impatiently. “Right there.”

Obediently Optimus moved forward and knelt, blowing dust off the contraption and inspecting it closely. “It’s heavily rusted.”

“But we can just scrub that off,” Ratchet dismissed. “What about the cables in the side? Are they frayed?”

“Since they haven’t been in use, they’re still in good condition,” Optimus said, squinting at them. “But both they and the ports will need to be cleaned thoroughly. Aside from a cleaning, it seems—Oh.”

“Oh?” Ratchet echoed apprehensively. “What’s ‘oh’ mean?”

“There’s a fissure near the base,” Optimus said grimly. “It’s been leaking coolant...”

“Well, we can patch that up,” Ratchet insisted. “We’ve done it hundreds of times.”

“...on the mainframe.” As he concluded, Optimus could practically feel the horror strike the medic, making him slump for half a moment before forcing himself to straighten again.

“Fine then. Time to bring in the co-creator.”


	30. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 30: "Gift of a Friend" by Demi Lovato.

“I’m warning you, I gave up all this science stuff ages ago,” Wheeljack warned as he sprawled on his chassis and squinted at the coolant-crusted wires in the mainframe. “Now I mostly damage stuff; I don’t repair it afterward.”

Ratchet paced on the platform above him, radiating impatience. “Yes, I know that, Wheeljack, but you _have_ to get this repaired.”

Wheeljack glanced up at him for a moment. “Y’know, doc, it’s kinda weird seeing you—” Ratchet gave him a warning glare and he quickly shut his mouth, returning to his work.

Sighing, Ratchet sat on the bed nearby and wiped a hand over his face. “I need to sleep,” he muttered. “Recharge,” he explained when Wheeljack opened his mouth to inquire.

“Don’t let me bother you,” Wheeljack offered, gesturing to the bed he sat on.

“I can’t,” Ratchet replied with a shake of the head. “Nightmares.”

Wheeljack raised an eyebrow. “Humans have those too?”

“Unfortunately,” Ratchet confirmed. “They’re more vivid as a human, not laced with static like Cybertronian dreams.”

“Yeah? What do you dream about as a human?”

Ratchet drew his knees up to his chest and shivered a little. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Okay.”

That was the one good thing about Wheeljack’s casual nature, Ratchet thought to himself. He wasn’t pushy about things one wanted to keep private. Stifling a yawn, as he didn’t particularly like the sensation, Ratchet stood and shook his head free of the longing for a blanket.

“Optimus!” he called. Heavy footfalls immediately answered his beckoning and he held out his arms as the Prime appeared around the corner. Optimus held out a hand and Ratchet climbed on. “Can we take a walk?” he asked. “I...have to talk to you.”

“Of course,” Optimus agreed kindly, clomping down the hall.

“I need to know,” Ratchet began as soon as they were out of Wheeljack’s audial reach, “what we’re going to do if he can’t repair the Cortexitron.”

“I wouldn’t give up hope so easily,” Optimus warned him. “Wheeljack has only just started the restoration process. I trust his skills.”

“Which skills?” Ratchet scoffed. “Did you hear what he said? He gave up science long ago. Still, you didn’t answer my question. What are we going to do if he can’t repair it?”

Optimus was silent for a few moments. “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll turn to other methods. Your original idea of infusing yourself with energon, though more dangerous, is still an option if this one is exhausted.”

Ratchet nodded his agreement but remarked, “The children were here earlier and seemed to think that a cortical psychic transfer was just as dangerous as an energon-infusion. I don’t know why, but they seem to believe I’m...better suited for human form.”

“That, or they have found a bond with you in a different way,” Optimus reminded him. “Constant change is often tiresome and for them to watch you transform a third time after so many days of humanization—”

“It’s only been a week,” Ratchet interrupted. “But I can see your point. I don’t remember the last processor order I sent in my Autobot form. I’ve been too busy trying to adjust to human life.”

“Which is why they have misgivings to this solution,” Optimus finished. “They have only just adjusted to your human form and now they need to readjust to your Autobot form. It was much the same when I was adjusting to being a Prime.”

“That brings up the other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Ratchet announced hastily. “I want to know what exactly you intend on doing to me with the Matrix of Leadership.”

“As I explained before,” Optimus responded simply, “I’m going to rebuild your body.”

“But is it going to steal your memories again? Because I...I _will_ give up my Autobot form if it means you get to keep your life as a Prime,” Ratchet burst out.

Optimus halted, bringing his hand to his optic level so he could stare at Ratchet. “I likewise will give up my Prime form if it means you get to regain your life as an Autobot,” he intoned slowly and sternly.

Sputtering, Ratchet waved his hands through the air as though to erase Optimus’ words. “It’s not like I don’t want to be an Autobot again; I want nothing more. But what I _don’t_ want is to hurt you in the process.”

“I doubt the process will hurt me,” Optimus chuckled gently.

“Don’t laugh about this, Optimus!” Ratchet barked. “I’m completely serious—I think it’s unwise of you to use the Matrix for this.”

Optimus’ chiding smile faded. “There is no other way. You said yourself that you won’t be satisfied with any other body but your own.”

“That’s another thing,” Ratchet argued. “What if what Miko said is true? What if my body changes because you bind the Matrix to me? What if—what if you become Orion Pax again while I become a Prime?! I could never be that, Optimus, _never_.”

“Because you weren’t chosen for that role,” Optimus agreed. “That is why I don’t think what you’re suggesting will happen.”

Ratchet nodded pensively. “Your reasoning is sound, I suppose. But I need some kind of assurance that we’ll both be alright in the end.”

Optimus paused for a moment. “Primus isn’t speaking to me,” he told him as he began walking again.

Ratchet tsked disappointedly, leaning his chin into one palm.

“Ratchet, I believe our Creator simply wants us to trust,” Optimus reminded him. “Trust him and trust each other. You are willing to make a great sacrifice at your own expense for my safety. For that, I trust you with this Matrix, with everything that makes me who I am. I request you trust me for the same.”

Ratchet lowered his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. Finally he managed a small nod. “I do trust you. I trust you—I _will_ trust you—with my life, old friend,” he vowed, giving away his emotion with the use of Optimus’ phrase. When Ratchet looked up, Optimus was smiling at him fondly.

“I won’t break your trust.”


	31. *Miko | Jack | Raf*

Miko bounded up the steps to the top platform, shaking Ratchet’s shoulder vigorously. The medic startled awake with a yelp, which Miko stifled by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Hey, hey, just me, doc. No need to— _ouch!_ ” Miko yelped, jerking her hand away and staring in horror at the bite Ratchet had just left on her palm. “No need to go all vampire there!”

Ratchet twisted around, seeing her face for the first time. “What—? Miko!” Sitting up quickly, he grabbed her hand and spread her fingers wide so he could inspect the damage. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...I thought someone was attacking me.”

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Miko asked sarcastically. Ratchet looked up at her blankly and she pulled her hand away to wave it through the air. “Never mind. I wanted to tell you that Jackie’s making progress on the brain-puller.”

Ratchet looked horrified at her label for the Cortexitron He opened his mouth to correct her and she waved her hand again. “And because he’s making progress on it, Jack, Raf, and I wanted to do something with you, since this is probably your last day as a human.”

Tilting his head slightly, Ratchet seemed to consider. “Very well. What would you like to do?”

“Something new, exciting, and dangerous!” Miko exclaimed, jumping up and down excitedly. “Something that will pump you full of adrenaline and fear and then bring you plunging back down again!”

Ratchet was looking mildly horrified. “But—”

“First...” Miko gave him a sinister smile and then laughed easily, gesturing to his hair. “First I’ll redo your braid. You’ve gotten it all messy.”

When that was finished, Miko grabbed Ratchet’s hand and pulled him off the bed, dragging down to Jack’s car, which was waiting below. Jack and Raf waved hello and Ratchet returned it hesitantly.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he was shoved into the backseat next to Raf.

“We’re going to the Inside Scoop!” Miko whooped happily as she leapt into the passenger seat. When she turned in her seat, she saw that Ratchet was staring at her with one of the most perplexed expressions a human could muster. “It’s an ice cream shop,” she tried to explain, “where you get to make your own ice cream cup—mix a bunch of flavors and put any toppings you want on it. Then you weigh it and pay for it by the ounce. Any questions?”

Ratchet mulled over the information, questioning after a moment or two, “What’s ice cream?”

 

Jack had warned Ratchet not to let Miko choose his ice cream flavors for him, but the medic had been so confused by the process that he hadn’t listened, shoving the empty cup into Miko’s hands and wandering over to one of the tables. Jack had sighed as he watched Ratchet’s fascination over the chair he sat in and how it spun.

When Miko had plunked her concoction down in front of Ratchet and urged him to eat it, Jack expected Ratchet to take a bite and then run out of there screaming. Instead he swallowed, albeit with a little difficulty, and nodded in surprising interest, fumbling with the spoon to get a larger scoop. Miko smirked at Jack, who had a sudden loss of appetite and put his cup on the table. Ratchet ate half of that too and then leapt to his feet, laughing giddily.

“Miko, this was a genius idea, but what are we doing next? I have to move! Let’s go somewhere big and exciting! It’s my last day, after all, and I don’t want to waste a single minute of it!”

“Miko,” Jack hissed as Ratchet hauled them to their feet and dragged them out the door, “I think you got him on a sugar high!”

“It wasn’t _me_ who left another whole cup in front of him!” Miko snapped.

“By the way, thank you for that, Jack,” Ratchet exclaimed. “It was amazing! C’mon, I’ll go anywhere you want!”

“Let’s go swimming,” Jack said hastily.

“Swimming? What’s that?”

“Basically you...move and play in a big tub,” Jack explained lamely. Ratchet raised an eyebrow dubiously but shrugged.

“Fine by me.”

After a long and hectic time spent at a swim shop, Jack led Miko, Raf, and Ratchet into the community pool area. Ratchet tugged at the collar of his long-sleeve swimsuit, grumbling about how constricting it was and whining for his lab coat and turtleneck, which he had only just started wearing again now that they were mended. He stopped at the edge of the pool, gaping at the sparkling surface.

“You never told me the tub was full of water—!” he wailed, right before Miko propelled him in.

 

Raf could tell that Ratchet was exhausted. As he was taught how to swim, his sugar rush had worn off, leaving him sluggish and in need of something unwinding.

“When I need some time to relax,” Raf piped up as he stood on tiptoe to drape a towel over Ratchet’s shoulders, “I go to the pet shop, The Hairy Haven.”

“The _what_?” Ratchet muttered, hugging the towel closer around his drenched form.

“It’s a place to look at animals and when you find a favorite one, you buy it,” Raf described eagerly. “There are a lot to choose from and they’re all really cute!”

“I never knew you liked the pet shop,” Miko remarked in surprise.

“Me neither!” Jack agreed.

Raf shrugged hesitantly. “I thought you might...laugh. Well, mostly Miko.”

“Oh, _et tu_ , Rafael?! I love animals!” Miko protested, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. “They understand me!”

“I think they’re the only ones,” Ratchet sighed. Raf laughed and led him to the pool showers, where he patiently explained that the pool water had a chemical that was bad for human skin and needed to be washed off. Ratchet then had to know why, if it was so bad, did the humans play in it constantly, which Raf promised to tell him after he showered and was put back in his proper clothing.

Jack drove them to the pet shop and Raf forgot about explaining chlorine. He liked this shop a lot, especially since his parents wouldn’t let him get a pet of his own. It comforted him to at least see the many animals and pretend they were his.

Ratchet forgot his fatigue in favor of excitement as they entered the shop—mostly because the doors opened automatically. He kept running back and forth in the entrance to see if it would keep happening until the shop owners got annoyed that they kept sounding the customer alert. Raf apologized hastily and pulled Ratchet away, pointing out some of the animals. Ratchet was like an awed child, enthusiastically directing Raf to the ones he favored.

All at once Ratchet froze, staring at an enclosure in the corner with wide eyes and open mouth.

“What is it?” Raf asked him, but Ratchet didn’t answer, moving forward slowly and pressing his hands against the glass.

Before Raf could scold him for it, Ratchet whispered, “I want this one.”

At his words, the reddish-tan cairn terrier in the cage lifted its head, ears perked up. Ratchet beamed ecstatically, greeting it in what Raf assumed correctly to be Cybertronian. The puppy brought itself to its paws and approached, yipping curiously.

“It even likes my home Tongue!” Ratchet exclaimed. “Raf, I want this one!”

Raf gulped, thinking maybe this place wasn’t a good idea. “Ratchet...you can’t.”

Ratchet whirled around with an expression of utter dismay. “Why not?!”

“Because it’s too expensive,” Raf admitted. “We don’t have that kind of money—”

“But you said that when I found a favorite one, we could buy it!” Ratchet hollered, causing some people to glance over in surprise.

“That...I...” Raf was trying to find a way to make him understand but couldn’t. He was no parent; he didn’t know how to deal with a tantrum.

“Ratch, calm down,” Miko said quietly as she approached.

Ratchet glanced between the terrier and Raf, his expression changing from distraught to accusatory and back between the distances. “I—I don’t understand!” he cried at last.

Miko opened her mouth to try helping Raf out but her phone rang at that moment. She answered, listened for a moment or two, hummed an acknowledgement and then hung up.

“That was Wheeljack,” she informed them somberly. “He’s got the thing ready for you.”


	32. *Optimus*

Optimus was surprised that Ratchet didn’t leap out of Jack’s car with a wild grin on his face. Instead he slipped out with head bowed and shoulders slumping.

“What’s wrong, old friend?” Optimus asked in concern.

Ratchet looked up at him with an unreadable expression. After a long moment he blinked and the spell seemed to be broken. Squaring his shoulders with a deep breath, Ratchet shook his head.

“Nothing. We ought to get started.”

June and Fowler stood on the top platform, watching Wheeljack test the switches and dials on the Cortexitron. On Ratchet’s request, Optimus lifted him up to them.

“This is...goodbye, I guess,” Ratchet told them, trying to sound brisk. “Well, goodbye to me...well, not really _me_ , but...oh, scrap it all, you know what I mean.”

“Yes, we do,” June assured him with a kind smile. Optimus knew that hugging was a much larger part of human society than Cybertronian, so he didn’t think it strange when June hugged Ratchet tightly. He did raise an eyebrow dubiously when she turned her head slightly and gave him a light kiss—on the cheek.

As June pulled away, Ratchet flushed, muttering something under his breath. Fowler shook Ratchet’s hand and said something in a low tone that no one else could hear. Ratchet looked uncomfortable for a moment but nodded anyway.

The kids didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves as they observed Ratchet’s goodbyes to the adults. Optimus leaned down to them. “I would suggest giving him your best wishes,” he murmured. “Though it may not be visible to you, he’s quite concerned about the Cortexitron’s success.”

That was all they needed. All three kids rushed up the steps and tackled Ratchet in a suffocating embrace. Ratchet yelped, working his wounded arm out of their grasp so they wouldn’t damage it further, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you for everything,” he whispered, squeezing each of them in turn. “You helped me learn a lot.” Gently he pulled away from the children and looked between Optimus and Wheeljack. “I’m ready to finish this,” he said firmly.

“But I’m not,” Wheeljack answered promptly, making Ratchet startle.

“What do you mean?”

“Rather, the boss isn’t,” Wheeljack corrected himself. Optimus grinned broadly as Ratchet turned his disbelieving expression on him.

“I believe you wanted one last flight?” Optimus reminded him. Ratchet’s face lit up with excitement.

“Oh! By the Allspark, yes!”

It wasn’t long before Optimus was walking down the desert road with Ratchet in hand, trying to find a prime spot for liftoff. He and his friend conversed, Ratchet telling him about the day he’d had with the children and the positives and negatives of it.

“I’m sorry about the dog,” Optimus said kindly when Ratchet had finished.

“It’s alright,” Ratchet sighed. “I’m disappointed, but Rafael was right. It was too expensive...and besides, since I’m going to become an Autobot again, it would be too dangerous for something so small to be around.”

Optimus halted, powering up his engines with a roar. “Are you ready?” he questioned. Ratchet hugged his thumb, nodding eagerly.

“Definitely!”

With that single word, Optimus lunged, soaring into the air. Ratchet whooped as he had the first time, but this time there was no fear in it. Optimus was pleased by that and told Ratchet by showing off, twirling and rolling daringly through the wispy clouds, which embraced them as though they were clouds themselves.

“Optimus, go lower,” Ratchet urged abruptly. “I want to see the town!”

“I don’t want to take the risk of being seen,” Optimus disagreed.

“You can stay just inside the clouds,” Ratchet explained. “You’ll blend in.”

“I’m blue and red. Clouds are white,” Optimus quipped, echoing the remark Ratchet had made when they had hidden in a bush the last time.

Ratchet huffed. “Please. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Very well,” Optimus consented reluctantly, reserving power so they dropped lower in the sky. As their view of the town cleared, Ratchet gasped, pointing to a specific area.

“That’s where I went swimming!”

“What’s that?” Optimus asked in surprise.

Ratchet paused. “Basically you move and play in a big tub. A tub full of water.”

“Ah.” Deciding not to pursue the subject further, Optimus swerved, letting Ratchet point out other areas of interest.

After another twenty minutes or so, Optimus decided it’d be best for them to get back to base. Ratchet sighed wistfully as they landed.

“I’m going to miss that,” he admitted as Optimus dropped into his vehicle mode and began the return drive.

“You may be heavier as an Autobot,” Optimus remarked, “but I believe I’ll still be able to carry you.”

Ratchet laughed softly, affectionately patting the dashboard. “I hope so.”

When Optimus transformed in the bunker with Ratchet in hand, Wheeljack gave him a thumbs-up. “It’s all ready,” he declared.

Ratchet ran his hands through his hair nervously. “So...all we can do is try this?”

“Yes,” Optimus confirmed as he set Ratchet down on the medical bed. He smiled comfortingly. “Don’t worry, old friend. We’re all here for you, and I promised I wouldn’t break your trust.”

Ratchet nodded jerkily, lying down stiffly and visibly struggling to breathe. Wheeljack carefully settled the headset on Ratchet but looked confused as to what to do with the other one.

“I’ll take that,” Optimus told him grimly.

“Why?” Wheeljack asked, his optics going round as Optimus positioned the other headset on himself. “Wait. Optimus, what are you doing?”

“If it succeeds, you’ll know soon enough,” Optimus answered calmly as he clicked open the hatch to his spark chamber. As the Matrix cast a soft blue glow over his chest, Optimus sat himself down next to the Cortexitron and pushed the power button.


	33. *Ratchet*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for Chapt. 33: "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong.

Ratchet had always wondered out of scientific curiosity what Spike had felt when the Cortexitron had been used on him. Now he wished he hadn’t wondered, as it was one of the most painful experiences he’d had in his life. Everything in and around him felt as though it were being eaten from the inside out and vise-versa and every time he tried to struggle against it, millions of tiny electric needles stabbed his nerves, sending catastrophic shocks to his heart.

 _I’m going to die!_ Ratchet screamed silently as he began drowning in a murky pond of oblivion. He could barely breathe, barely keep his limbs moving. On occasion his head would break through the surface of the black water. A horrible flash of light and pain would greet him and then the darkness would slurp him back in, forcing unforeseen nightfall.

He was suddenly weary, so very weary of this battle. In his whole life, the one thing Ratchet had valued most was freedom—the strength and will to choose freedom and the freedom to _be_ strong and willful. He greatly respected seeing freedom other people and he rejoiced in his own.

Freedom was his buoy and without it all he knew was terror.

As he grew desperate, Ratchet began to crave the light and even craved the pain that came with it. At least in the light he had feeling. When he was submerged in the darkness, he could feel nothing and everything. He couldn’t feel his heart pulsing, nor could he feel the dread chills prickling up his spine. He couldn’t feel them, but he knew they were there. He knew everything in him was shifting, but his body seemed like stone. He was going nowhere and everywhere.

And yet, there were two things he could always feel. One was the weight.

The substance and pressure of the dark was so heavy; it chained itself to him and dragged him deeper into the abyss. He thrashed against it, but each time, when he was triumphing against the restraints, that was when he could feel the second thing.

It was something cold, a deep menace inside of him. It would first bubble in his stomach and then begin to flow through his veins. It swam before his eyes as a profound, enthralling glaze of pale blue ice. Try as he might, Ratchet couldn’t look away. Seizing him almost hypnotically, the chill then drove itself into his core.

The first reaction was shock and agony, then nausea and drowsiness rippling over him in waves and he descended his way into a fold of fold of a fold of oblivion. Over and over he was defeated, each time becoming weaker and more torpid.

As the chill began to freeze his veins once more, Ratchet knew the cause was lost. _He_ was lost. He felt the shock as the icy dagger stabbed him, but the pain was only a flicker this time, instantly giving way to the lightheaded stupor. Gently yet eagerly it subdued his struggling and killed him.

Before all was wiped out of his mind, Ratchet had only one last sensation: sinking and being slowly merged with the gooey soul of nothingness.

Ratchet lurched awake, alarms ringing in his audials. With the ease of a practiced lifetime, Ratchet silenced them and shoved them in a subfolder of his processor to be inspected later. He reached out with his EM field, wondering where he was.

A familiar EM field blended with his, spreading warmth over his metal. Onlining his optics, Ratchet could distinguish Optimus standing over him. Wordlessly the Prime held out a hand and Ratchet took it, allowing himself to be pulled into a sitting position.

“What’s going on?” he asked drowsily, still shaking off the last grip of deep recharge.

“It worked!” Miko cried in astonishment, startling Ratchet. He stared at her, realizing suddenly that she was very, very far below him.

“Miko?” With one word, a flood of memories surged into his processor, making him gasp and stare at his hands. “It worked!” he echoed in utter shock. “It _worked!_ ” Bursting out laughing, he lunged to his feet and threw his arms around Optimus’ waist, relishing in the fact that he was large enough to do so. “Thank you so much, thank you, thank you!” he repeated over and over as he pulled away and scrubbed his hands over his chassis, inverting his EM field so he could truly _feel_ the metal.

“This is...beautiful,” he whispered joyously as he vented the air instead of breathing it, rolling his shoulders and loving the clicking of gears that resulted. “Wait a second. My arm is healed!” he realized, inspecting it thoroughly and finding nothing, not even a dent.

“The work of the Matrix,” Optimus informed him with a smile. Ratchet’s responding grin was ten times brighter.

“I can’t ever thank you enough!” he exclaimed, springing at him with another embrace. Optimus grunted slightly as the ecstatic medic kept hugging tighter and tighter.

“Ratchet...I’m finding it rather difficult to vent.”

“Sorry!” Ratchet leapt away from him, pivoting so he could hug Wheeljack instead. “Thank you too! You did an amazing job repairing the Cortexitron and I owe you a huge favor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wheeljack told him, raising his eyebrows mischievously. Ratchet blew him off, kneeling so he could talk to the humans.

“Thank you again for all you did. I would never have made it without you.”

Jack smiled and nodded, Raf flushed and shrugged, and Miko jabbed a finger at him. “That’s right!” she declared. “You pay us some gratitude for once!”

Ratchet scowled for the first time since his awakening, but it didn’t last long. “I have to do something,” he announced. “I’ll be back soon.” So saying, he whirled and bolted out of the bunker, knowing he probably wouldn’t return any time soon.

When he was at the edge of the road, Ratchet stopped, gazing at his surroundings in wonder, as though he were seeing everything for the first time in forever.

“I like ice cream,” he called to the open air, tuning his audials to the echo. “I like ice cream and dogs and watching television! _Star Trek: The Next Generation_! _Doctor Who_!” Grinning so broadly that it almost hurt, Ratchet lifted his face to the sun, stretching his EM field toward it even though he knew it wasn’t possible to touch it.

“Psh, please,” he scoffed at the sun. “I thought it wasn’t possible to touch humanity!” Shaking his head, Ratchet transformed and rolled out, sirens howling with glee.


	34. Epilogue *Optimus | Ratchet*

Optimus sensed Ratchet’s field brushing his from behind.

“What’s wrong?” the Prime asked as he turned, projecting concern through his field to bleed through the anxiety in Ratchet’s.

“We need to talk. Alone,” Ratchet murmured in a somber voice Optimus had almost forgotten in the celebration of these four days after Ratchet’s restoration.

“Of course,” Optimus consented, gesturing for Ratchet to follow him to the laboratory. Jack, Miko, and Raf scrambled to get out of the way of the Autobots’ feet.

“Come here, Ferris!” Raf called, whistling for his dog’s attention. The cairn terrier sat stubbornly where it was, forcing Optimus to stop.

“Ratchet, make him move!” Raf pleaded.

The medic rolled his optics and spoke sharply in Cybertronian. **::Go on, Ferris. Go to Raf.::**

Ferris yipped happily, bounding after Raf but turning as soon as he was near the boy so he could drop into a play bow. Ratchet laughed softly and knelt, running a finger back and forth over the puppy’s back.

“I have no idea why he responds to Cybertronian,” Ratchet told Raf. The boy shook his head wonderingly.

“I don’t know either. He’s weird,” he laughed.

“Hey! Jack and I are the ones who bought him for you, smuggled him here, and named him ‘Ferris’ after human Ratchet,” Miko reminded him sternly. “We can just as easily take him back if you think he’s ‘weird’!”

“If you dare do such a thing, I’ll bridge you to your parents in Tokyo,” Ratchet threatened. “You _and_ Jack.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Jack cried in protest.

Properly chastised, Miko held up her hands in defeat. Ratchet nodded approvingly and rose. “Optimus and I are going to the lab. Stay here, alright?”

A chorus of agreement followed them as Optimus opened the lab door for Ratchet and then closed it behind them. Ratchet’s humor with the kids had been simulated well, but there was no trace of it now. Optimus disliked that.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again.

Ratchet began pacing back and forth, running a hand along his left arm. Optimus had noticed this stress habit only yesterday, but he knew it meant Ratchet was thinking about his abduction by the Vehicon.

“Are the flashbacks or nightmares worsening?” Optimus tried, but Ratchet shook his head jerkily.

“No, they’re not worse, but in the last one I had...Optimus, there was something 115 said that makes me really worried.”

Optimus cocked his head slightly. “How so?”

Ratchet closed his optics as though a heavy burden had just blanketed itself over him. “I was trying to stall, get a little bit of time before he started...doing things to me. I asked him what he did most of the time and he said he spied on us. ‘Surely you have assets,’ I said, and he confirmed it! He said, ‘If only your humans knew! It’s someone they would never expect. At first, I didn’t expect it either: a human willing to betray their own race.’”

Ratchet’s spark clenched when Optimus’ expression turned to dread. “Ratchet...are you certain it wasn’t just a bluff?” the Prime asked apprehensively.

Looking pained, Ratchet shook his head. “I’m a doctor, Optimus. I always know when someone is lying and 115 wasn’t. There’s a spy, a traitor among the humans.”


End file.
